Matrix of Sparks
by Gatecrasher12
Summary: There once was a man who wrote a book about a 'Lost World' hidden deep within the Earth where magic and science coexisted. What if that book was made real? There is a hidden city beneath the sands, and at its center is a power identical to the All-Spark.
1. Prologue

There was once a man who wrote a story about a lost world at the center of the Earth. In his world, time held no relevance as past and future melded together in the present. In his story ordinary and extraordinary people lived and existed side by side, magic and science did not fight for dominance, and creatures supposedly extinct, mythological, and average all lived in the same place.

Now what if I told you that there was a place similar to that lost world beneath the soil we live on? Now what would you do if I said that the truth you and I have come to live by was only a half-truth and that the world we live in was much more grand than we've been led to accept as true? …You don't believe me? Then let me tell you a story, a story about three very exceptional people; a boy who went from being an ordinary down and out teenager to a hero by an unlikely twist of fate , a man who built a hidden city with his own two hands and created a nation of mixed creatures, and an alien warrior who was the leader of a once proud, nearly extinct race of ancient living machines from a different planet.

(((O))) (((O)))

=(One Week After The Battle In Egypt)=

The state of Nevada was mostly uninhabitable by human standards. A great deal of it was The Great Basin Desert after all, the largest stretch of desert in all of North America. The desert itself took up almost the entire state, half of Utah, and the eastern and southern most borders of California and Idaho respectively. But just because most of the state was a barren wasteland didn't mean there was no life there. Most livable areas in Nevada lay along its southern and western corners in cities such as Las Vegas, Reno, and Carson City (there are seven other major cities and a slew of small towns between them). But of all the Silver State's cities, there was one city that was grander and by far larger than any of the Nevadan metropolitan areas known, or rather, unknown.

With more than four miles of rock between it and the surface, there was a cave, the largest and longest one yet to be discovered and likely to never be discovered. But then this particular underground cavern was special since it wasn't naturally made. It was perfectly circular with a dome ceiling, miles wide, miles long, and the space between the ceiling and floor was far enough apart that one would be able to stack two twenty stories tall skyscrapers on top of each other and still have several dozen yards to spare. Within this oversized cave was an even grander thing.

There, laying hidden from the world in that grotto, was a city, a populated metropolis, called Las Magia City.

It was the only subterranean city of its kind on Earth, and hardly anybody but the individuals who lived within its walls knew of its existence. Originally it started out as a simple hiding place, a base of sorts, for a small group of ten rather special individuals whom had nowhere to go and had to conceal themselves from the general populace of surface dwellers. Only rarely did the inhabitance of Las Magia allow anyone from above to come down to live within their walls and only open-minded people under certain circumstances. Almost too quickly, over the course of fifteen years, that small group grew to more than one hundred, and again and again as the years past until current numbers, close to thirty-five hundred, and the base had to be expanded upon to accommodate the growing patchwork of diverse residents from a small base to a village, then a town, and finally it became the sprawling underground colony it is today.

The tons of rock above and around it proved to be a natural defensive wall against any and all kinds of scanning equipment, making Las Magia impossible to find. If the surface dwellers were to ever set eyes upon it, they would think someone took a scene from some cyberpunk novel or movie and made it real. The stone walls, roof, and floors of the cavern had been leveled out and lined with thick sheets of metal that was made from slabs of the world's strongest refined alloy. But it was not just the feats of science that gave the city its existence, though it was responsible for the bulk of it. Another entity, more obscure and mysterious than science, had helped in making and maintaining Las Magia as a thing of reality. All of the colony's residents knew of it and accepted it, even with the initial skepticism of moved-in residents, and only a small minority of surface dwellers scattered across the world actually had any sort of inkling as to what it was and how to harness it while the rest of the world only knew of it as simple fantasy, an imaginative myth. Believe it or not, magic played a hand in Las Magia's construction. Truly, it exists, for the Creator, as that was his title and what the populace referred to him as, of the city was a magical person himself. One would only have to look a little within their own homes to find something purely or at the very least half magical in origin. Everything one could find in one of the surface cities, towns, and villages could also be found in Las Magia. The city itself was large, less than a third the size of Nevada but twice the size of a normal city, built as far away from every known and underground military base in the desert, and numerous, specially crafted charms to shield it from undesirable attention or attacks. There was a Fidelius Charm on the colony with its Creator as its Secret Keeper, a very strong Cave Inimicum to reinforce 200 yards worth of stone outside the colony walls as first defense against penetration, a specially modified Anti-Disapparating Jinx designed to allow contained Apparition within the city but kept magic users not registered as a legal citizen from getting in or out without going through the Customs Ports/gates, which had Intruder Charms and Stealth Soensoring Spells on them, and Impervius and Unbreakable Charms on all the doors and walls of the colony. Since the colony was built and established near a lesser Ley Line of magic several miles away, the city ran on enough ambient magic to power these charms and jinxes for centuries to come without killing the technology in it, even if some of said technology had been modified to accept magic. This made the colony and its city a veritable fortress rivaling Hogwarts: School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and the Gringotts Banks.

The buildings were all made almost exclusively of smooth, glossy metal and glass that gleamed with artificial lights, revealing hieroglyphic ruins etched carefully into them, and stood in all different sizes and shapes but twice the height, width, and length than normal man-made structures on the surface. There were spires and pyramid-like towers, some structures were spherical or oval-ish, some were designed to look as if they were leaning or slightly twisting while others had an oblong quality to them. There were a number of suspension brides that connected some buildings with the roads, or buildings with buildings, or roads with roads. Large neon billboards floated along in mid-air as Tram systems ran and circled the length of the city. The roof of the colony was a bit of a mystery and a source of awe itself, it looked exactly as the outside sky would on the surface; sun, moon, stars, clouds and all slowly changing colors depending on the time of the day and season up on the surface, imitating day and night. A complex network of crossing underground pipes and high elevated wall ventilation shafts continuously, silently, recycled or brought new air and water into the colony, controlled the sewer and pluming systems, several large generators regulated the climate control (rain, snow, etc), producing an atmosphere, or distributed power.

All together, the city had the appearance of a possible Tokyo or New York of the 22nd century.

Now this brings up the topic of who and what lived in this rather extraordinary city. One third of the metropolis' residents were human and of that, one half were magical and the other half were mundane. Unlike on the surface, there was no segregation between the two parties, no hiding from on another out of fear, and the concept of blood purity prejudice, or any form of racial prejudice for that matter, was highly frowned upon by all and city law dealt hard punishment for any acting on it. The magical of the city were not willingly ignorant of the technologies of the current century just as the mundane were not kept ignorant of the histories of magicks. The next third of the cities residents were the Magical Creatures, beings strait out of fantasy or horror stories. All who knew of the city and did not wish to continue to live on the surface due to gross oppression of power and unlawful castigation for simply being non-human by several Ministries of Magic came to live peacefully within the city. There were Vampires, Werewolves, Veela, half-bloods and other such creatures that were branded as 'dark' or 'light' roaming the city together. Special laws were put in place for them to adhere to and exclusive facilities that catered to their specific needs made living with them manageable, even enjoyable. Now the last remaining third of the city's population were a truly unusual sight. These individuals were neither classified as human nor Magical Creature, let alone organic, but all of them were considered the Creator's children. The Creator had made each of them specifically for certain jobs or functions and only he had the unique ability to bring them to life. As his children they obeyed and protected the Creator to the point where he was never seen without at least one or two of them. They were the true marvel of advanced science, beyond what any hoped would be possible or achievable in this current 21st century. They were the original residents and builders of the city. Mechanical in nature, but very self-aware and capable of having of feelings, they had no real official group name, but collectively the people called them Transformers for their ability to change from sentient robots to any mechanical alt form, from vehicles to household appliances. The smallest stood no shorter than six inches tall, any smaller and they would only be preprogrammed helper drones, while the largest were as large as a twenty feet tall.

The city was divided into six sector rings and the capital. Each sector each sector rose up like a short stairway until the capital, and had its own way of life and its own facilities such as learning, medical, and recreational centers. The residents had jobs and certain abilities or a set of skills based on which sector they lived in and their own preferences. Ring One, also called the 'countryside', was the outermost ring of the city. This was where plots of open land, an artificial ecosystem, were dedicated to farming crops and certain herbs and what not, and the growth of livestock took up a great deal of the land. There was also a small three mile thick forest growing there with its own thriving wildlife, both magical and mundane, rimming the walls of the colony. The forest was called the Edge Woods and was magically kept by ambient magicks from the very same Ley Line that made a great deal of south-western area of the United States a radio dead zone.

Next the outer sector was Sector Rings Two and Three, were the residential areas between the outer ring and the inner city, the suburbia-like cul-de-sacs for the organics of the colony and the much wider urban-like housing complexes for the Transformers respectively. The houses and apartment buildings/complexes weren't as outrageously constructed as the inner city buildings were, they were build hardly any different than a regular house or apartment, no matter who or what lived inside them. However, the Transformers lived in apartment no than two or three stories (by their standards) tall. Also, the residential area only took up half the two Rings,

Then there was Sector Rings Four and Five. Ring Four was a place of warehouses and manufacturing and/or processing plants. It was where the city's heavy machinery, like construction drones, was built and stored, including the Transformers' shells and armor. Ring Five was dominated by a multitude of different small shops and businesses as well as the arts, all manner of commerce basically. Anything one would need or want could be sold or bought in this sector. The were also a multitude of art museums, performance arts centers and theaters, parks, and malls.

After that there was Ring Six. This Ring was devoted governmental and judicial handlings as well as institutions of higher education . Here was where the major courthouses, several small jails, the Postal Service buildings, and government buildings for the city council sat. The four main hospitals (three of them specified to each of the three races while the last was generalized), small specialized clinics, the three major Universities, and six small technical colleges of Las Magia also sat with this Ring.

Lastly was the capital. Unlike the other areas, the capital was the smallest of them all, but at the same time it was the most important. It is here that the Creator of Las Magia and his family lived and worked. His home was more castle-like in appearance, it stood higher and wider than any other building, and it sat at the very center of the city. It was also here that new mechs and femmes are sparked and given protoforms.

Given what kind of people the denizens of Las Magia City was very self-sufficient and required very little outside help or materials. Why would it? The city could easily mine, conjure, grow, build, craft, produce, and recycle all it needed. Las Magia City truly was a inconceivably captivating futuristic metropolis, a harmonized mesh of science and magic. The closest thing to an actual little Lost World some would say. It was so very loved by its inhabitants that it wouldn't take much to make them violently hostile to protect it. The denizens could almost be considered to be isolationists, but not quite, they were very aware of the happenings on the surface. Happenings that made them leery of the current outside world.

(((O))) (((O)))

He found it all too entirely surprising, even a little amusing, to discover other mechs and femmes not sparked by himself. What's more, all of them were _aliens_, of all things, from another planet call Cybertron and arrived on Earth a year ago. That surprise was quickly overshadowed by the knowledge of said aliens were divided, calling themselves Autobots and Decepticons, and were at war with each other. That fact by itself, he didn't care about their origins, gave him a healthy dose of caution of both factions… if only at first. There was a war going on topside, yet another conflict in the ancient war between good and evil, between defenders and conquerors, and the winner would claim Earth as their spoils.

There had been two incidents on Earth so far that showed the two faction fighting, once in Mission City and only days before in Egypt. Both times the government had tried to hush it up, the first time it worked when it was blamed on an unknown group of terrorists using stolen military weapons, not the he believed that load of dragon dung, the second time… didn't work at all. The people knew truth now and weren't going to be fooled a second time. Almost every news station on the surface was abuzz about it, currently holding the live press conference he was watching now.

The citizens, his people, of Las Magia were torn with indecision. Some were fascinated by the Autobots and wanted to invite them down into the city, hoping for a chance to learn something from the clearly older mechanoids, particularly the Transformers. Others were wary of both factions and weren't too keen on inviting what could easily turn into an unnecessary problem into their lives. The remaining many took a neutral stance and stayed undecided.

In the end, he, as the leader, decided for everyone.

He assigned a recon mission to a team of one mech and one femme, both battle grade, and two humans, one was an older wizard man in the police force who knew mechanical repair work and the other was a rather refined nineteen year-old young woman who just began a promising career as program analyst, would go up to the surface as neutrals. They were ordered not to help nor hinder in any battles unless threatened, but to simply observe and determine the apparent fidelity of the Autobots and their human allies. …There was, however, one bit of information the Creator withheld when he made his decision. When he set eyes on the boy named Samuel James Witwicky and the large blue and red flamed mech named Optimus Prime, his powers of creation resonated strongly, as if calling out for something similar to it. Then there was also his dreams, dreams he had been having for years of a strange silver dagger shaped artifact with a shimmering blue crystal in the center, of a cube as large as a small house with indecipherable glyphs carved into it, and of a group of twelve, once thirteen, ancient mechs. The word 'Primes' came to mind when he looked at them.

Looking at these two, he knew there was a connection of some kind between them.

The Creator sat, leaning ever so slightly forward in his sinfully comfortable throne of a chair (his children insisted and persisted that he be treated higher than he felt was necessary. A simple desk and cushy chair would have done it for him, thank you) that was in a rather large, luxurious (again, his children) yet tastefully decorated chamber of his home. The room was a long rectangle, like a hall, and had an Unbreakable Charmed circular window that took up most of the wall behind him. It was also very sizeable, enough to fit up to fifteen of his largest Transformers comfortably, and was largely empty save for the mural size paintings and statues decorating his walls, the long dark blue rug on the floor the line of crystal chandeliers on the ceiling, and at the end of the room, the throne he sat on was at the top of a half-pyramid shaped platform that put him just above optic level.

At the foot of his throne stood his six Magister Judges. There were two Transformers (a mech and a femme) two Humans (a witch and a mundane man) and two Magical Creatures (a vampire and a werewolf). Each one of them was different than the next, boasting different strengths and skills, but all were considered to be the elite; they were the bravest, brightest, strongest and were loyal to him to a fault. Though he had no true need or desire for it, they also served as his guard.

The mech was designated as Windchill. He was the Creator's first sparked, the overall oldest, one of the few flyers in the entire city, and was a very impassive bot. His stood rather tall, was wide chested, had pale green optics, and painted a gunmetal grey and dark green painted frame made him a rather imposing mech. Windchill could transform into a heavily armed Westland WAH-64 Apache attack helicopter, if the slight spread out rotor blades behind him were any indication, though his alt was bigger than a normal one. He spoke very, very little, only occasionally muttering roughly in low tones or made small gestures. He wasn't shy, he just didn't converse well with others he wasn't particularly close to. Unless it was the Creator or Margareta, the vampire and fellow Magister currently lounging on his shoulder, he let his action speak for him. He was literally built and sparked for the purpose of battle, protecting his Creator and home to deactivation.

Margareta Van Voltair herself was very old, well over six hundred but she looked ten, and a true Nosferatu from Germany. She was an Elder Vampire of by birth and age as well as experience, basically she was a noble. Despite her high-born statues in Vampire hierarchy, she behaved both her real age and the age she appeared. Margareta was woman trapped in a child's body. At the time when she came to the city, she was a very lonely, down-and-out, hard-on-her-luck noble who just lost her entire coven to hunters and simply let herself be swept away with a few migrating vampires who had heard of a 'secret haven hidden within the sand basin of the New World for all Magical Creatures'. Las Magia and its master took her in without thought or care of what she was even after she told him. The Creator simply shrugged, smiled, and gave her a new place and purpose when she had nowhere to go and no one to turn to in her greatest time of need. For that, she owed Las Magia and its leader. They gave her a chance to live her life, a life she would destroy anything to protect.

The femme Transformer was called Siren and, like all femmes, was small, and had a lithe, slender frame. She was an average sized femme, only standing at 8'-6", more than three and a half heads or more shorter than the three mechs around her. Her body armor was all curved with only a few sharp points, like her helm having several long and short ridges like a half-crown. Siren was painted a sleek aquamarine with a elegant deep navy blue and white wave decals along the seams. In her bi-peddle form it was hard to see any overly obvious aspects of her alt form, but by the dorsal fin-like rudder and webby wings on he back, she was something that belonged on or in water. She was a fairly adventurous femme and loved spending her down time at sea, as within her nature.

The witch of the group, a Spanish-American woman wearing flowing gold trimmed, crimson robe-like dress and shoes with long wavy brunette hair and soulful dark eyes, was known as Karina Figueroa. Originally from the bayous of Louisiana, Katrina was the younger sister of one NEST operative Jorge "Fig" Figueroa. Her greatest talents was her ability to modify and redesign spells into something more and in her family's innate heightened sense of empathy towards kinetic energy, often using that gift to sense an immediate change of events. Her kind may not be Seers, but they were the next best thing. Most mundane people thought it funny or annoying when they said they had a bad or good feeling that something was going to happen, until it actually happened. She had literally ran headlong into the Creator himself one night by accident almost eight years ago. She was working two jobs then and had just gotten off her day job as a secretary at the local wizard bank, unlike in Europe Gringotts wasn't the only banking name in America, while rushing to her night job as a waitress at one of the many restaurants on Bourbon Street. It was Mardi Gras week and the party crows were already pouring in. She was running late and barely paying, arguing with a friend over the phone when she connected with him. He had shocked her, in both senses of the word, a strange power that wasn't magic but not unlike electricity in appearance snapped up into her cell, not that she noticed at first. But she certainly noticed what happened a moment later when her little phone suddenly transformed into a six and a half inch tall robot in her hand. The Creator had panicked and was just reaching for his wand to Obliviate her and take his new unintended Sparkling. Of course she didn't notice his panic. She was too busy looking at her once phone when she stopped him cold by asking how he Transfigured her phone into a robot without a wand. After the revelation of both of them being magical, the Creator ended up walking her to her job and explained it was an innate ability unique to him. They had become something like penpals after that.

Aleron LeBenoit was a French werewolf, and not a magical one either. Before he changed, he was a teenager who lived an entirely too demanding life back in Le Havre, France, coming from a family of five with a dismally thin wallet. He was a low income "muggle" as the magic users called him from an equally low income family, just a year away from finishing high school at the middle of his class and living on his own. Aleron discovered what he now was and almost everything he knew of magic truly existed from the French Ministry the week after he was bitten by an on-the-run rouge wolf, he had been comatose after the attack. The most obvious signs of his turning where his hair and eye colors, his eyes turned gold and it was like someone washed his dark brunette hair in bleach to make it white. His life only got harder afterwards. He dropped out of school and left his family after his first transformation, fearing for their safety, and ran. He managed to get as far as Paris before he ran out of what little money he had. By some twist of fate he met and befriended another werewolf named Remus Lupine and his newly wed and pregnant wife, Nymphadora (under the threat of death he never called her that) Tonks-Lupine who were barely any better off than him. Remus and Tonks had let him stay at their little flat with them as long as he got a job, muggle or magical, as long as he had one. When they died a year later, the Creator had come to inform him. He was reluctant at first, not wanting to leave, but he agreed to immediately immigrated from the beloved home of his friends' when the Creator told him living in France was going to become hazardous to his health because Magical Britain, one of the bigger magical communities in the world after the Americas and Africa, had been pressuring the other Europian Ministries to pass laws on restraining Dark Creatures. So he did the only thing he could think of. Only after he'd been assured nobody would, could, touch the little cottage did Aleron packed his things and bid au revoir to his home and traveled to America with the Creator.

The last of the Magister was a man named Brandon Chase from San Francisco, California. He was a tall young man of seventeen with short black hair and blue eyes behind a pair of rimless glasses. He wore baggy dark grey pants with brown boots and a casual black and navy long sleeved shirt. Hanging off his shoulder was a messenger bag that held his laptop and all his electronic gadgets. Of all the Magister, he was the youngest, being only seventeen, but at the same time he was a certified genius, a super hacker in the making who's budding skills behind a keyboard had impressed to Creator. At the time Brandon had been fifteen, just starting high school, and simply messing around one night, picking apart firewalls from several communication companies for the fun of it, when he stumbled across one of Las Magia's hidden internet system links, specifically the one relay that dealt with communication between the colony and the surface, and started hacking into it. He had been immediately caught the moment he typed the first keystroke to examine it. With several of his Transformer children always jacked into the city's data mainframe at a time, it was impossible for a surface human to obtain any confidential information. Even though he was kept from touching any sensitive data and ousted from the system, the boy was interested. He would come back and try again every other day, not succeeding and booted out each time but he had become more and more inventive and dynamic trying to crack their defenses. He had met his greatest challenge as a hacker and he obsessed over it. Brandon had became such an annoyance to the mainframe maintenance crew that they started back hacking in retaliation when he tried to plant a custom made worm virus. The Creator, when he was informed, was too amused at their antics to be upset. So much so that he went to personally meet the boy that was giving the crew so much grief. It wasn't hard to find him. When he did confront the boy they had a bit of a rough start, but after talking a bit the Creator offered him a future within his home. The temptation to know ate at Brandon until he agreed. With a bit of spell weaving and false information about a non-existent boarding school, Mr. and Mrs. Chase agreed and let him go, only to return every summer.

In front of the seven a large holographic screen keyed to one of many news channels hovered. The Creator had noted certain sets of symbols engraved or painted on the aliens. He stared pointedly at the tallest of the mechs, the apparent leader, Optimus Prime. He was… honestly intrigued by these Cybertronians. They were so like his kids, and yet, they were so different as well. He supposed he could liken them to being something similar to removed older cousins his children never knew. They certainly appeared that way.

Now that he sent a small party to observe them for him, he needed something to gain their trust if the colony was ever made known to them and they became curious enough to visit, a sort of peace offer to the Autobots. …and he may know of just the thing. "Split screen and show me footage from last year's battle in Mission City." he ordered, his voice was soft but between a high baritone and a low tenor. Much of the initial videos posted on the Internet had been erased by the government, but that didn't mean he didn't have them copied and saved before the purge. The voice controlled holo-projector obliged and pushed the current channel aside while pulling up a video track, playing it next to the news. As he watched, he counted, looking between the Autobots of the present and of a year ago. He saw the difference immediately. One mech out of the original five arrivals was missing. A sad, bitter smile curled his lips as he watched from the perspective of someone's shaky phone camera the small silvery mech die. "Freeze the Mission City video." he said, the video stopping.

His flowing white and green robes flowing out around him as he stood. The Creator looked down at his Magisters, specifically the femme Transformer, his first daughter. "My dear Siren, I have a favor to ask."

"Huh?" The femme's wide emerald optic shuttered as if not expecting to be called on. She acknowledged he father all the same, "What can I do for you?" she asked in a whimsical, musical voice.

The Creator gave her a warm smile. "My precious sea angel, I need you to assemble a recovery team. I want this mech's remains retrieved from the Laurentian Abyss."

Siren looked at the hologram's frozen image of a silver, visored mech who looked only a few feet bigger than her. "Hmm… what's so special about him?" He was certainly good looking. Very attractive, for a land bot, but it looks like he was just another pretty face and no muscle to her. "He looks like a pansy- Oww!" Siren whipped around to glare up into the optics of the mech who flicked the back of her helm, dully ignoring the centuries older, giggly little vampire that sat on his shoulder. "What was that for, Windchill, you rusted bucket head?"

The large mech's optics narrowed slightly and his lip components twitched down, but other than that, he said and did nothing else.

Margareta laughed again at Siren's irratation at Windchill as she pet the fuzzy head of her plush bear. "Chilly vant's you to stop ah'ting like a Sparkling and do v'hat z'ee Lord Creator ah'sked you." the little female vampire interpreted for her friend in a heavily accented sing-song voice. He sweet smile began taking on a amused yet nasty edge. "It'z obvious to any'vone wit's a brain bigger zen a peanut z'hat he v'ants to 'elp z'hat poor Autobot." All though she wasn't a particularly violent vampire like the stories depict, Margareta could be spiteful at times.

The aquatic femme glared at the curly haired redhead in that modernize black and dark pink Victorian dress. She couldn't take being around that bratty leech in human skin for extended amounts of time. She sooo wanted to offline the little blood sucker. It was an ongoing feud between them since they both became Magisters.

"Goodness, they're at it again." Magister rolled their eyes in exasperation.

"One o' des days, 'dey come to blows, dis I know mon amis." Aleron sighed.

Brandon smirked in amusement. "Heh, I'd pay to see that."

"Now, now, no need for fighting," The Creator's soft voice soothed, amused exasperation coloring his voice. "Yes, I do wish to help this mech. It is within my power to reignite his spark if he wants to return… but I admit, I do have an ulterior motive. I want to meet the Autobot leader. I want to know about this Cybertron, the All-Spark… I feel that there may be a connect between us. It and I both exhibit identical abilities."

Siren was silent for a moment as she looked at the serious, thoughtful look on the Creator's face. She huffed and turned, "I'll be back in two or three days." she informed as she turned to leave.

"Do be careful, and try not to be seen by the military!" Creator called after her. She gave an affirming backwards wave as she disappeared out the door. The Creator smirked. "Well now," he began almost giddily, "I haven't had guests in a long time. I think I'll start setting up a room for this Jazz chap… but I've not a clue how to decorate."

"Oh! I v'ould like to 'elp!" Margareta volunteered. "V'indchill could 'elp too wit'z zhe e'vy lifting!" she said. Windchill gave the little vampire a looked that said 'Why are you volunteering me?'. She gave the mech a wide eyed, pleading 'puppy dog stare', and when his optics dulled slightly and shuddered away from her Margareta knew she won him over… again. For all his imposing appearance, stone cold personality, and fierce battle prowess, Windchill was such a creampuff on the inside; soft, sweet, and all around good. "Let us be off z'en! V'we 'ave much to do, no?" Windchill gave one last look to his Creator, who just smiled back innocently, the mech vented in resignation and walked away with the vampire chattering happily in his audio.

Brandon shrugged and turned to leave, taking out a small cell phone and started dialing while one hand was stuffed in his pocket. "Whatever, I'll inform the medical staff at Liberty Tech Memorial to start preparing for our special guest. " he said as he walked away. Then he muttered more quietly to himself "Damn, I can already imagine the shit load of extra parts they'll need to fix that guy."

Katrina and Aleron also left the chamber. Katrina wanted to go call her brother, seeing as she just found out he was one of the soldiers who fought in Egypt against the Decepticaons and the Fallen, she was worried about the current state of his health. Aleron went to see about setting up some accommodations for the Autobots and their human friends since he had a feeling that without a doubt they would pass inspection and be invited into the colony.

Now all alone, the Creator sat back down and continued watching the press conference with interest. All he had to do now was sit and wait patiently, hoping he made the right choice in chancing exposure of his people to them. If he was wrong about the Autobots and their allies, he would simply have to go out with a team to Obliviate them and destroy any evidence of their existence. Unlike the other members of the magical society, his brand of magic worked just as well on autonomous robotic beings as it did on organics.


	2. Returner

=(One Year After The Battle In Egypt)=

Almost a full year had passed since the battle against the Fallen and the Decepticons in Egypt. Since then things for Sam Witwicky, Mikeala Banes, Leo Spitz, Reginald Simmons, and the Autobots had both changed and stayed the same. The world now knew of the existence of Cybertronians and the war between 'Bots and 'Cons that destroyed their home planet. No amount of government cover-ups was going to hide them from the general public anymore. At least, not with the way the Fallen had broadcasted their existence while dozens of Cons rained out the sky, destroying buildings and damaging public property in several of the world's major cities. Too many people around the world had pictures, video, and other evidence to erase so the only thing left to do was to do some damage control, show the people the difference between Autobots and Decepticons.

A live press conference in the courtyard of the American United Nations Building had teams of reporters from all over swarming to get the 'Greatest News Story on Earth'. All the Autobots stood in a single file line, from smallest to tallest, at attention in front of every major and minor News Network. Every notable humans who ever helped the Bots, or at least had prolonged exposure to them, was there as well, taking turn explaining their connection with the mechanoids, their experiences with them, and what their personal impressions of the Cybertronians were. When Optimus or one of the others were asked certain question, they were answered truthfully and as fully as possible unless it was too personal. They gave a bit of their planet's history and such other little bits of general knowledge about Cybertron before the war.

For the next four months after the press conference all the TV news stations, news papers, magazines, and tabloids talked about were the visitors from outer space and the likely possibility of there being more. Almost every world leader or representative who weren't already in the know about the giant aliens flocked and practically tripped over themselves to have a chance to talk to Prime, once it became clear that the Autobots were protectors who wanted to defend Earth.

Progress had been slow in coming, very slowly in fact, but after many, many long hours of meetings with the UN every other day of the week, Optimus began befriending the leaders of most of the major countries. Countries from North America, Europe, and Australia were among the easier nations to gain full support from, they were already sharing close communications with the governments of these continents via NEST so the support and trust was already there. The northern countries of Africa, about a third of South America, and a fourth of Asia took more time to sway while the rest of the world was either undecided, outright declined out of fear, had ulterior motives, or were just plane too impartial. They also seemed concerned when Optimus expressed a hopeful interest of the Autobots cohabitating Earth peacefully with the humans.

For the humans, they too had their fair share of lime light, whether they wanted the spotlight on them or not.

Sam had gotten an earful of accusations and angry words from a hurt Miles when the blond called after he finally found out why his best friend had been so distant with his lately. He had felt guilty about not telling Miles that he knew the alien robots and had been hanging out with them. But Sam had been bound to silence by a Gag Order from the both the military and government, his hands had been tied! Sam spent the better part of an hour apologizing and listening to Miles rant. In the end, when his friend had finally ran out of steam, the two had patched things up between them now that there were no more major secrets to hide. They were still 'Bros-For-Life' after all. Miles also ordered that Sam had better visit him on his next break and to bring one of the Autobots with him. As upset as he was, Miles was totally stoked at having a chance at meeting a real live alien who just so happened to be a giant robot! How awesome was that!

Mikeala was continuously harassed by reporters and her high school friends (she always knew her friends could really be shallow to the point of coming off as plastic Barbies sometimes, but did they seriously think she was only dating Sam because he was friends with the 'Bots?) to the point where was contemplating bodily harm against them. She ended up accepting an offered apprenticeship as Ratchet's assistant/nurse when he noticed her affinity and quick study for repair work on damaged mechs. She packed he cloths and other necessities, grabbed Wheelie and was out of Tranquility within the week.

Leo was practically basking in the light of his newfound popularity with the ladies of his dorm. Hell, in the entire school! He had gone from a near desperate bottom feeder to finally sitting at the top of the social food-chain, having girls asking him out for a change. He also enjoyed watching their reactions to his, slightly exaggerated, story of how he faced down the Combiner Decepticon, Devastator, with the Chevy twins and Simmons. The ex-Sector 7 agent had been recruited by NEST when his collected knowledge of the 'Cons and tactical prowess proved useful. Though most of the soldiers were loathed to admit it. Even if Simmons did manage to mellow somewhat, he was still an ass half of the time.

Lennox had to have Sarah and Annabelle moved to the Diego Garcia base temporarily, and were still there, when a stray vengeful 'Con managed to sneak onto his family ranch one night. Luckily, Ironhide was a very paranoid mech when it came to Decepticons and the safety of his charges, especially of little Annabelle. His highly tuned sensors easily picked up the intruder the moment it passed the property fence and he dispatched it quickly before it got within firing range of the house. When he heard what nearly happened to Will and his family, Epps decided to follow his commanding officer and best friend's lead and had his wife and four daughters shipped to the base. Other prominent NEST soldiers from the battle with families also took steps to hide their's as well. The Witwickys had been able to finish their second Honeymoon peacefully, but only after they agreed to having a guard patrol their neighborhood now that Bumblebee was back with Sam for their own safety. They were also given new Autobot approved phones and such electronics that couldn't be tracked like their originals were.

Another bit of good news was that an Autobot team of six new arrivals had made planet fall. The group consisted of Prowl, Wheeljack, Sunstreaker, Bluestreak, Firestar, and Moonracer. The general reactions to who were arrival were varied; Optimus was relived to have his top tactician back, Ratchet was both happy he had his best friend again and frustrated said best friend was already jumping headfirst into his… explosive experiments. Ratchet and Ironhide both cursed as the banes of their existences that were the major Twin Terrors had reunited, not that they wasn't happy for them, it was good for the now ecstatic Sideswipe who had been far too moody and distant as of late. The Autobot sisters, Arcee, Elita-1, and Chromia were happy to finally have more femmes joining the ranks, and Bumblebee was pleased to have someone closer to his age group to talk to even if he was such a happy-go-lucky chatterbox.

Sunstreaker had marveled at his brother's Corvette Stingray alt mode and copied it, only he chose a glittering golden paintjob to oppose, in his opinion, Sideswipe's dull and plain silver. Wheeljack chose a white 2010 Lexus LF-A with red and green line detailing as his alt for the simple fact that it was flashy and had a Cybertronian look to its appearance. Firestar took a chameleon red/orange 2010 Lotus Evora while Moonracer became a pale teal and white Maserati Spyder. Bluestreak took a while to chose his alt, spending several minutes weighing the pros and cons of nearly a dozen different vehicles before settling on a grey Porsche SpeedART with navy racing stripes running down the right side of the car. Prowl, ever the mech of law enforcement, took the 2011 Ford Police Interceptor as his alt and was quite happy with it.

There was, however, one snag in the happy reunion of friends and comrades; the new arrivals learned almost immediately after transcanning alt modes of Jazz's demise when Prowl asked for him. For Prowl, it was devastating, as if someone had ripped his spark out and repeatedly stomped on it, and for Bluestreak, who Jazz treated like a little brother, it was just plain spark shattering to have one of the two mechs who treated him like family taken from him. It was hardly a consolation to know Jazz was offlined fighting and protecting his fellow bots and innocent civilians from Megatron.

Also, with the sudden expansion of Autobot numbers and the expectation of more on the way, Wheeljack had informed the earthbound bots they had a group of four made up of Hound, Mirage, Blaster, and Cliffjumper trailing about two and a half an Earth months time behind them, came the need for a bigger base. While Diego Garcia could hold twenty bots and one hundred humans comfortably with room to spare, The Hoover Dam was deemed fit to accommodate up to fifty bots by itself and would be outfitted to become the second NEST base. There were many other potential sites for future NEST bases all over the world, and they would be built by the other countries soon enough, but for now it wouldn't be concerned about until their current base exceeded its habitation limit.

(((O))) (((O)))

-(Downtown Tranquility, Nevada)-

It was a fairly beautiful early Autumn day, warm but breezy, and there was barely a cloud in the sky. The trees leaves had begun to change from their summer green colors to their picturesque Fall gold, oranges, and reds. Had it not been for her mission, Shanti Rowlington would have been fairly enthralled about being in the natural sunlight and general atmosphere of the surface again, not that it was really all that different from the colony. It had been years since she walk around topside, she had been just a kid when she moved to the colony with her single father from Brooklyn, New York. That said, she wondered if any of her childhood friends remembered her… probably a few. She did keep in touch with the closest of them.

Shanti was a fairly petite young Black woman of nineteen, almost an adult, with waving and curling shoulder length black hair and striking grey eyes. She wore low riding black leather pants and boots and a half zipped deep purple and black leather biker's jacket over a spaghetti strap white shirt with a pair of gloves hanging out of her right pocket. She had a backpack leaned against the leg of her chair and a black helmet sitting on the table next to a half eaten banana-nut breakfast muffin and mostly drained cup of orange juice. In front of her was a special, small laptop Magister Brandon had given her that he personally built and programmed for their mission.

A year ago, during the virus attack on the Pentagon's mother computer, one of his men he had on the inside reported how easily Decepticons could hack into and plant spider viruses that ate data and evolved like a living organism the moment it attacked. The young Magister, through a concealed relay, managed to slip inside computer and procure samples of the virus for in-depth study before the Autobots purged it. After months trial and error, of tinkering away with much kudos to the 'Con that made the intricate little puzzle he slaved over, he finally managed to create a protection program that acted like both a virus and a vaccine of his own. The program did the same thing the virus did, only it to resist all forms of incoming hacking, and if that didn't work, it ate back at whatever unauthorized program attacked it with all the ferocity of a school of starved piranhas until it and its source were completely eradicated, and it evolved just as fast. At the moment she using it to find any leads on the Autobot's whereabouts.

Shanti's nose suddenly wrinkled as glared at the man across from her, Damien Moore, and coughed while waving away a small cloud of smoke tainted air that drifted her way. The pair sat a table for two on an outside patio of a mostly small coffee shop within the small city called Tranquility, enjoying breakfast while trying to think of a way to find the Autobots and the NEST soldiers.

-cough, cough- "Must you do that- cough- around me?" complained the young woman. "Those- cough- cancer sticks are going to kill you one of these -cough- days." she admonished.

"Sod off, brat, I'll do what I want." groused a fairly built Caucasian man in his mid-thirties with dirty blond hair and the bright amber eyes like a hawk's hidden behind a pair of sunglasses puffing on a cigarette. His hair was clean cut to close cropped, wore a pair of jeans with hiking boot, a plain grey shirt under an open non-descriptive red zip-up hoodie, and a black duffle bag dropped on next to his feet. "Don't like my smoke, then go somewhere else." he told her before purposely blowing a smoke cloud at her before returning to his steaming cup of strait black coffee and newspaper.

"Ack -cough, cough- you ass!" she cursed, gaining a smirk of amusement from one of her three partners.

Sitting just a few feet away from the two humans on the curb of the small café was rather sleek purple motorcycle Honda CBR 1000 Fireblade with silver and black highlights. Parked behind the Fireblade was a bright orange 2010 Ford F-150 SVT Raptor pickup truck with black 'tearing' decals on its bed. Both the motorcycle and the truck, for all intent and appearances, were far more that they seemed. If anyone was to actually watch both vehicles moving and shifting on their suspensions. In truth, both machines were sentient beings called Transformers. The motorcycle was a disguised femme named Nightgale while the truck was called Hawkeye.

Nightgale was a very shy and quiet, and a fairly eco loving femme who tended to stutter nervously. She was a walking encyclopedia of knowledge on nature, especially flowers… who also just happened to know how to the handle the thermal beam bow attached to her left arm and was a dead shot with it, had a short knife secreted in her right servo. She was built with extra sensitive sensory and detection devices and, despite her bashful demeanor, was a highly trained saboteur. Hawkeye was the polar opposite, he was loud and brash, fun loving and outgoing, simple and brave. He was a practical learner and knew how to make the high powered explosives he loved using. While he preferred close ranged melee combat, as his frame was made to take a beating and give one back, he was also a fairly accurate shot with the blaster cannon in his right servo. Hawkeye was a front liner after all.

Then the two happened to be bond mates.

At the moment Nightgale was trying not to squirm in embarrassment as her cooling system was worked overtime. Hawkeye was flirtatiously complimenting how shapely he thought her alt's aft was over their bond link. When she tried scolding him, it came out more as weak statement than anything remotely scathing, she felt his mischievous desire flutter through their bond before he inch forward. She felt him release a small electro-mag pulse when he nudge her rear tire with his front bumper suggestively, causing her to squeak quietly and inch away, which made him laugh. The purple Fireblade knew if she had been an organic, she'd have been redder that a cherry by now. Comparatively, if they were humans, he just pinched her rear. In public. In front of their clueless partners.

Despite resisting all of Hawkeye's rather forward advances and bold comments on how he'd like to fall into the nearest recharge berth with her, the suspicious black and white police cruiser that had following them and lurking around the street corners all day did not escape Nightgale's notice. Even with the dampening field device it sat under.

(((O))) (((O)))

Barricade's morning had started out the same as it had been almost every morning: quiet and peacefully boring with him prowling the streets of Tranquility occasionally terrorizing one or two humans for the hell of it. Then he found something fairly interesting. A pair of bots, a mech and a femme, came rolling into town just a little after sunrise. At first when he had chanced upon them coming into town he initially thought they were Autobots because their signatures didn't register as Decepticon and because they were very obviously with two fleashies. Then he also processed the two didn't give off an Autobot signatures either. This is why had been sitting on the same corner on the opposite side of the street under a signature dampening field for a little more than half a groon now staking out a pair of bots he'd recently discovered.

Since the two didn't register as one of the two factions, this left only one possible choice left they could be.

'They must be neutrals. Interesting, but I've been on this dirtball planet for over four stellar-cycles and haven't heard of any Neutrals making planet fall.' Barricade's engine rumbled idly as his stiff holographic driver stared blankly at the four. 'There is a chance they could have been here long before me.'

It had been a long time since Barricade had seen or heard of Neutrals. He had thought Megatron had wiped out the last of them . After a few minutes longer Barricade's comm. suddenly alerted him to an incoming transmission.

:: Starscream to Barricade::

:: This is Barricade, what do you want Starscream?:: the shock trooper sneered. He really didn't feel like hearing from the cowardly seeker 2IC's screechy vocals so early in the morning.

The Raptor's answered :: Our dear illustrious leader, :: he said sarcastically, :: wants a recon report. I have important work I could be doing and I don't want to waist my time on you, so report. ::

The shock trooper hissed, and for the billionth time wondered why Megatron kept that conniving, backstabbing seeker around. :: I just discovered two unknown bots in town. They don't come up as either Autobot or one of us. Likely they're neutrals. ::

:: Hmm, that is interesting. Follow them, they may know where those Autobot fools are hiding. I report your findings to Megatron. Starscream out. ::

The police cruiser grunted, ::Barricade out. ::

(((O))) (((O)))

-(Sam's college dorm room)-

Sam Witwicky felt miserable. He rubbed vainly at his temples, groaning pathetically at the sharp pounding that was the mother and father of all headaches he was forced to suffer through.

"Come one Sam, hang in there, ya casi estamos alli."

Leo had been halfway dressed this morning, getting ready for class, when he noticed Sam, who was still in bed. Thinking the other Freshman was just being his lazy morning self, Leo was prepared to just leave him in bed and head down to breakfast when Sam started spazzing out in his sleep, talking alien gibberish and squirming around crazily like someone put an eel in his bed. It was almost like when he first met the youngest Witwicky. Leo did the only thing he could do and shook the newly turned twenty year-old boy awake, but doing that only seemed to make things worse. Sam had jerked awake violently, looking around with confused lucidness. He then saw Leo and just at him blankly for a second. Then his incomprehensible sleep talk suddenly morphed into clear understandable words, if overly intelligent and big words (Preceptor-speak basically), as if he just switched over from talking rapidly in a foreign language to rapid English. The Spanish youth was quick to act, immediately recognizing what was happening. After getting Fissbinder and Sharsky to cover for them, he managed to get Sam up out of bed, dressed, and out the door. Now Leo was hurrying along, supporting his friend's weight as they walked down his dormitory's halls away from their shared dorm room. Somewhere along the way, between Sam's babbling on the incorrectness of several aspects of quantum mechanics and how materials found on Earth could be synthesized in certain ways to produce different types of something called Energon, his rant had died down to pained whimpers and groaning.

"Morning classes hasn't even started yet and already freaky shit is happening." Leo muttered as he fished around his pockets with his free hand for his cell phone. Pulling it out he called Bumblebee, he needed to tell him something was wrong with Sam.

"Good morning, Nevada!" the cheery voice of the six o'clock morning news guy answered for the yellow Camaro.

"Hey Bee, something's happening to Sam!" he stated, a little panicked. When he noticed his outburst had gained a bit of attention from some of the other students, Leo forced a polite smile and a "Morning!" as he practically dragged Sam away.

"Ohh~hh, Say what, say what, say what… Tell me what's up?"

Leo hiss lowly into the receiver, "I don't know! It was like before, back when he was seeing alien symbols in his head!"

"Houston, we have a problem!" came Tom Hanks voice.

The college student rolled his eyes. "No kidding. We're on our way down to the student park now."

This time a brisk French voice answered, "Ay, ay, mon capitaine!"

Leo snapped his phone shut and continued leading Sam outside to the student parking lot where he knew Bee sat impatiently.

His skull felt like it was about to explode. Cybertronian glyphs shot across his vision as if someone set them on fast forward. Almost a month had past since the battle at Egypt and the glyphs had faded away. Sam had thought since he used the Matrix to revive Optimus he fulfilled his purpose his business with the glyphs was over with and they would go away. And they did… for a little while. They had come back. With vengeance. The glyphs had returned and it felt like they were trying to overload his brain, assaulting him with strange images and words he only half understood. They had started reappearing around lunch break yesterday, only about two or three at a time and were only faint outlines, making him think he was imagining them at first, but slowly as the day continued they got worse, growing numerous and bolder. They were so bad now that Sam could barely see what was in front of his face with so many blurry glyphs speeding around his brain.

"W-what wrong with me n-now?" Sam mumbled as he held his head.

"Don't worry mi amigo, I'm taking you to see Ratchet and the others." Spitz assured. "They might be able to do something for you."

When he finally noticed he was outside and where Leo had taken him, he could have kissed his roomie. Sitting at the curb with his passenger side door popping open and idling engine was his vibrantly yellow guardian. Leo helped Sam slid into the disguised Cybertronian's alt form, the ailing nineteen year-old sitting in Bumblebee's seats heavily, before racing around to the driver's seat.

"Darse prisa. Tenemos que movernos Bumblebee!"

"…Better be ready, put your peddle to the metal!" Bumblebee shot off and away from the college grounds the moment his seatbelts was firmly across both humans, heading for the nearest military air field for transport to Diego Garcia.

(((O))) (((O)))

-(NEST Base, Diego Garcia)-

NEST command, a week after the landfall of the new mechs and femme, was buzzing with its usual activity. The humans were being put through their paces by Major Lennox and Sergeant Epps, training for the next hunt for any 'Cons who surfaced. Most of the Cybertronians who had been living on Earth already were helping the new arrivals settle into their new lives on the blue planet. Wheeljack was off building and setting up a new hanger that would serve as his temporary lab on the far end of the island, as far away from the soldiers and few civilians and most especially the armory as possible, until the whole group could be moved to the much more solid and renovating Hoover Dam Base.

Sideswipe was catching up with Sunstreaker on all the missed vorns they spent apart, while teaching him about his new found hobby since coming to Earth called video/internet games. Though it was only a matter of time before the Twin Terrors would make their returning debut, the older bots knew it would happen sooner or later. The femmes were off on their own harassing poor Optimus into giving them bigger quarters for them to share, Elita-1 was having more success at swaying him to their cause than the others. When Ironhide wasn't at the shooting range he could be found watching over (re: playing with) Annabelle with Sarah Lennox.

Bluestreak could be found laid out in the Rec. room on one of the Transformer sized sofas, staring at the ceiling with dull blue optics, hardly talking or even listening to the minor twins who were telling him all sorts of general knowledge about Earth they knew or cracking badly delivered jokes in an effort to cheer him up. They even got into a small disagreement about who was and who wasn't helping Bluestreak cheer up that quickly blew up and turned into a brawl when he remain unresponsive to them. It took one of the sympathetic human soldiers who was currently off duty in the rec room to tell the Chevy twins that Bluestreak was mourning and to let him be.

Prowl, however, sat alone on his new berth in his assigned, darkened quarters. The room itself was Spartan; it only had a recharge berth, a desk with a chair, and a few cabinets and shelves for personal souvenirs. Prowl had very little in the way of keepsakes and no desire to decorate with what he did have. In his hand was one of the few memento's he had left of the saboteur; a holopicture taken just after he and Jazz returned to base back on Cybertron, they were both still dirty and dented from their first successful joint mission together. Prowl remembered that day well when Jazz, all grins and cheer, suddenly ambushed him from behind with a camera.

Since his arrival on Earth he had been merely going through the motions of his duties and refueling before returning to his room. Recharging did not come easy to the 2IC since finding out about Jazz. Prowl's world suddenly lost all its color, its music, and became dull. They were best friends, had been since they were younglings. He and Jazz were like brothers of opposite polarities that did almost everything together. When the search for the All-Spark began they had promised to survive to see each other again and fight side-by-side until the moment the war ended. But now, he was gone. They're promise had been broken, and he hadn't even gotten the chance to say good bye.

Prowl's optics glowed brighter until they were white with cold rage, anger and spark break filled him as that thought continued to loop. His fingers tightened around the frame of the picture as he swore to himself when he next saw Megatron and his Decepticons, there would be justice done.

Then, as if Primus above heard his thoughts, an alarm went off and a human voice sounded, "Multiple Decepticon signals have been located! Autobots Prowl, Ironhide, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe report to the airfield for deployment!" Prowl looked up at his name before he stood. He placed the picture on the berth-side desk and left his quarters, locking it as he went. He was a mech on a mission.

(((O))) (((O)))

-(Unknown Place)-

Now scanning systems checklist…

Structural Integrity:… 97%

Power Output:… 93% Stable

Spark Chamber Integrity: … 100%

Main Pump:… 99% Functional

Energon Production:… 56%… suggest immediate refuel

Memory Databanks:… defragging memory… defrag complete, now uploading…error, unable to access full memory data, 89% accessible

Processor System:… 99% Functional

Chronometer:… Offline

Sensory Nodes:… Online

Secondary Motor Function:… Online

Primary Motor Function:… Offline

Transformation Systems:… 64% efficiency… Offline

Secondary Weapons Systems:… Offline

Primary Weapons Systems:… Offline

Overall Efficiency:… 78%

… Now coming online

With a groan, blue optic slowly onlined and were assaulted by florescent light. Shuttering his optics, allowing them to adjust to the sight of an overhead light shining above, the 3IC of the Autobot forces and saboteur head of Black Opts. studied the room he found himself in. From the multitude of monitoring devices hooked up to him, the stark whiteness, and the general sanitized feel in the air, Autobot Jazz knew he was in his own personal recovery room of a Med bay… just not one he recognized. At this realization Jazz moved to sit up and found himself completely strapped down to his recovery berth by metal restraints. He also noticed his legs weren't functioning properly or even responding. Looking down at them Jazz saw most of his armor plating on his upper thighs were missing and how many new, recently added but hardly noticeable weld marks decorated them. Now had he been any other mech, Jazz would have begun to panic, thinking Decepticons may have captured him. But no, restrained and paralyzed as he was, Jazz knew this was no 'Con's Med bay, it was too clean for one and decorated for another, if sparsely.

Aside from the berth he occupied, there was a chair and a desk against to opposite wall and a wall sofa to his right under a long, blinded window, a drawn back privacy curtain hanging from the ceiling, and on the walls were scenes of space and Earth nature. Seeing all this made Jazz's wonder out loud, "Where the slag am I?"

As if to answer him, there was a sudden ring before the door to his left slid open, revealing one of the finest femmebots Jazz had ever lain optics on in decavorns. For a femme she was tall, about the same height as himself, polished all white armor with a few red lines and the human symbol for medicine adorning her breastplate and door wings that weren't unlike Bumblebee's only longer. Jazz could tell she wasn't a fighter in any way, or even experienced war for that matter, by the softness of her faceplates. But aside from the fact he didn't see a faction crest on her, the most interesting thing about her was her optics. They weren't Autobot blue or even Decepticon Red, they were green. Like new grass green, and they shown with a brightness to them that suggested she knew no burdens associated with war.

"Well, good to see somebot is finally online." she said kindly as she entered to room, her voice was soft yet firm. She stood in front of his berth and unhooked a data pad and stylus that had been hanging there, taking a moment to study it and write in a new log. "You're a very luck mech, Autobot Jazz. You were in such terrible shape when you were brought in."

"Uh, wait… who are you?" Jazz asked. He burned to know what was going on. The last thing he remembered was Mission City, fighting, Megatron, and the pain of being ripped in two. His claws clenched as he started to pull against his restraints. "What the pit is going on? Where am I?"

The femme jumped at his sudden demands. "Please calm down, I don't want to have to put you in stasis again!" she yelled over him. Her words and serious tone had an immediate effect on him and he slowly settled down. Again? What did she mean by that? "Good, now if you'll allow me to introduce myself, I'll explain the situation to you." she straitened and pulled herself to full height. "Greetings, I am Medi, assistant medic to Lifeline, Chief Medic of Liberty Tech Memorial." the now christened Medi waved to the general area.

"I never heard of such a place or this Lifeline." Jazz shot.

Medi nodded in agreement. "I know you haven't. I'd be surprised if you did." She then walked to his birth side and pulled up the only chair in the room. "When you were brought in it was worst thing I'd ever seen. The level of damage done to you by another mech, by the Creator I was not prepared to see that. So much of your internal parts were so badly damaged it took four decacycles just to fabricate replacements; even if the damage was minimum your spark chamber was breached, your spinal struts were shattered and muscle cables in your back and legs were warped, some plating was missing, no motor functions below the waist, your transformation cog was useless, several of your sensory nodes were burnt out, and a lot of your wires were torn. That's not even the half of it. Lifeline would be able to give you a more detailed report when he comes to check on you."

Jazz gaped at the damage report, his jaw lowering more and more with each word she spoke. With such heavy damage, it was a wonder why his spark wasn't sitting in the palm of Primus in the Matrix. Even Ratchet, the greatest Medic ever produced from Iacon Academy, wouldn't have been able to save his spark. How was he still online?

Medi noticed his reaction and said, "It took a lot of time and effort, but we managed to piece enough of you back together to stabilize and wake you. If you can give us a list of any specialized parts you may have had we can make the appropriate adjustments on repairs, then you have to go through a short period of rehabilitation. After that, if you're deemed fit enough, you'll be released into the custody of the Magisters with a clean bill of health."

He had been on the level with her until the 'custody of the Magisters' part. That sounded like an important title. "You mentioned putting me in stasis before? Why?"

Medi leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms and legs. "You might not remember it all too well, but we brought you online an orn ago, but the nano-klik you woke you went wild, hence the restraints." she pointed her stylus at the thick, bolted bands around his limbs and waist. "Your processor was trapped in a loop of your last conscious memory. When you attacked the medics we had to put you in forced stasis lock or risk injury to both ourselves and you."

"How am I not offline? I know I felt my spark fade."

Medi smirked something secretive. "That's something you'll have to ask the Creator when he arrives to visit you tomorrow." The white and red femme stood, not noticing the raised optic ridge directed at her. "I don't know how or why he did it, but he brought your spark back. Until then, I have more patients to see, and you need to refuel and get some more recharge." When she saw him open his mouth to protest, she added, "If you fight me on this, I'll have to knock you out with a special injection through your neck cables." To impress what she said she opened her left leg compartment, allowing Jazz to glimpse several prepared ready to use syringes with some kind of clear liquid inside them.

Jazz winced at the sight of needles, remembering all the times Ratchet sometimes had taken a needle to him and every other mech and femme when virus vaccination time rolled around. Certain cables, especially the one in the neck, were sensitive and getting injections through one hurt just as bad as getting shoot.

"I've learned stubborn patients are more compliant when I stick it to them." Medi informed. "Stay here, I'll be right back with an Energon feed."

The silver saboteur watched the femmebot medic warily as she smiled, an evil medic's smile that dared him to disobey, as she closed her leg compartment before leaving the room. When the door slid shut the silver mech muttered, "She's like a femme version of the Hatchet only with better birth side manners." Jazz vented a very human sigh and relaxed on his berth. He knew he could get out f his restraints easily, being a saboteur also meant he was something of an escape artist, but the problem lay with in the immobility of his legs. Then there were still a few things he needed to ask, to know, but he was beginning to feel his systems slow at the lack of Energon. One of the monitors next to him also read this. Jazz doubted he'd get far in his condition. His blue optics swiveled over to the window. He wanted to open it to see the world outside of it, feeling whatever was on the other side was something big. Jazz then accessed his memories, deciding to burn time by going over the ones he had of Mission City until Medi came back.


	3. Judges

-( Diego Garcia NEST Base)-

Ratchet paced around the entrance of the main hanger as he watched a C-17 carrying a special kind of precious cargo descending onto the runway. Wheeljack was also there, he come because of the complicated nature of Ratchet's inbound patient. Optimus stood at the medic's side, a frown of concern settled on his faceplates. A little more than three cycles ago a near frantic Bumblebee had called in reporting Sam was seeing ancient Cybertronian hieroglyphs again and was in pain because of them.

"I wonder what this could mean?"

Ratchet stopped pacing and looked at his leader. "What do you mean, Optimus?"

The blue and red mech vented heavily. "The last time Sam started seeing old Cybertronian text the Fallen appeared with the Sun Harvester."

"Do you think something similar will happen this time?" Ratchet asked, head tilted in curiosity. There was a possibility something would happen. It would only be another stroke of Autobot luck if that were the case.

"From what I was told, the boy has been exposed to raw energy from both the All-Spark and the Matrix of Leadership. Could they have affected him in some way more than we know?" Wheeljack questioned thoughtfully.

Ratchet knew he and 'Jack would need to give Sam a more thorough scanning when he got the boy in his med bay. There was no telling what kind of changes from exposure to two ancient and mysterious Cybertronian artifacts had done to the little human. Especially if there was a chance those said changes were hazardous or lethal.

Optimus shook his head and answered, "I do not know, old friends, but in light of past events it would be prudent to prepare for what may come." Prime crossed his arms as he watched the C-17 land and slowly taxi itself towards the hanger.

By that time the plane had parked and its ramp was lowering, Mikeala came running out of the base wearing a jumpsuit and tool belt with Wheelie rolling along after her in his toy truck mode like a loyal puppy. "The med bay is all prepped and ready for incoming bots." she notified the hummer almost absently as she pointedly watched a bright yellow Camaro roll out of the plane and drive over to them. At the moment the Banes woman was more worried about Sam than anything.

"Good work Mikeala."

Bumblebee drove up to them, flashing his headlights at them, and popped his doors open. Leo got out as Mikeala helped a barely lucid Sam out and into Ratchet's waiting palm. "What happened Leo?" Mikeala turned her piercing blue on the college techie as Bumblebee transformed. The young spy scooped up the two humans and ex-Con before following after a retreating Ratchet and Wheeljack to the med bay. Leo took the moment to gather his wits and tell the woman and surrounding mechs what happened earlier that day.

(((O))) (((O))

* * *

-(Tranquility, Nevada)-

"Hey guys, that damn cop car is still following us." Damien announced around his cigarette over Hawkeye's comm. He had his neck craned to looked out the meach's tinted rear window. The man sat easily behind Hawkeye's wheel, posing in a driving position. It wouldn't do if anyone noticed them if he wasn't pretending to drive.

Shanti was half-sitting half-laying on Nightgale's seat as the foursome idled in traffic at a red light. Unlike Damien, she couldn't turn her head to look. That would alert the one following them to their notice of it. "Why's he following us?" she asked through a comm. device in her helmet.

Hawkeye huffed. "He probably thinks we're Autobots or something." he answered before pausing. "Oi, Damien, toss the smoke or I'll dump you on the street. That stench is gonna set in my cab's upholstery! You're cleaning me out if it does."

"How would you know how you smell? You got no nose with olfactory sensors and you upholstery is leather!" the blond groused but took one last puff before flicking the half-burnt stick out the window anyway; he didn't like the way Hawkeye started leaning driver side down and the door lock released. "In any case, if this guy thinks we're with the Autobots wouldn't he be more aggressive? He's just been playing Follow-The-Leader with us." the magical law enforcer rubbed his stubbled chin in irritation.

Shanti offered up her own analysis, "Maybe he's hoping we'll know where the Autobots' base is? Or at the very least thinks we're in contact with them."

"…um, we n-n-need to find a w-way to ev-vade him. Fast." Ever since Nightgale informed them of their stalker the quartet had become very cautious about what they did and where they went. It was very obvious their unannounced add on was one of those Cybertronian Transformers of the Decepticon variety. The stiff red eyed holoform of an officer, the even more noticeable 'To Punish and Enslave' decal instead of 'To Serve and Protect' printed on its rear fenders, and the purple faced sigil of the Fallen on its doors declaring its faction gave it away so very perfectly.

"Right," Damien agreed as he fingered a long six and a half inch stick made cider with a dragon's heartstring as its core in his pocket. "Get us outside of the city. We'll make a break for it as soon as the light turns green 'cause I got a feeling he won't stay passive much longer." he said. Damien had to be subtle about his casting due to being in a city. The American Ministry of Magic may be more tolerant and more lenient than the others about open employment of magic, but not to the point of obvious use. They had laws like everyone else and being found out in the city by the surface Aurors could land them in a very difficult situation.

"Hang on tight them." the other three could hear the excitedly nervous tone in Hawkeye's voice. This would be his first battle not against a simulation or training partner, but against a real enemy.

When the traffic light suddenly turned green and the line of cars and truck moved, Hawkeye's and Nightgale's tires squealed as the spun. With a cloud of smoke the Transformer pair shot away, leaving black marks on the pavement and surprised bystanders. The fake cop car was after them instantly, trailing not far behind.

The Transformers of Las Magia raced down strait roads, turned and drifted around corners, and dodged around cars. It didn't take long for the four to make their way away from the general populous of the city, leading the 'Con along. It was only when they reached the more uninhabited border of the desert did the Decepticon start to get hostile and advanced on them like a hunting lion springing on its prey.

Hawkeye yelped when he was suddenly rear-ended. "Ahh! Son-of-glitch!" the orange pick-up growled and picked up speed. "Get ready to bail out, Damien! I'm going to transform and beat the slag out of this glitched fragger!"

(((O))) (((O)))

* * *

High above the car chase, Starscream flew overhead watching with an interested optic. He had scanned the new mech and femme several times over and found something truly odd about them. Not only did they hold no Decepticon or Autobot signal, but they're weren't registering as Cybertronian in origin at all and that was what intrigued the Decepticon Air Commander. Aside from a few planets colonized by Cybertronians no other planet had life even remotely as advanced as them. But here, on this dirty little organic mud ball of a world was a mech and femme pair with unknown origins. Starscream knew they couldn't be of this world, Earth and its fleashling inhabitance were far too primitive to ever create something as grand like himself, so that left the question of where these two came from and if there were others?

**:: Starscream to Barricade! ::**

**:: I read you, now what do you want? ::**

**:: Orders from Megatron, you are to capture both those bots and escort them back to base to him. I am to **_assist _**you. :: **he drawled the last part out in annoyance. **:: Thundercracker and Skywarp will be on their way shortly once we've subdue them. ::**

**:: Whatever, Barricade out. :: **Starscream growled hatefully as the line suddenly cut off. Barricade was working on his last good circuit with his insolence. He would let it go… for now. His mission at the moment was to retrieve the mech and femme. The cursed Autobot scum may have picked up on them and would come looking. If these two had no already existing allegiance with anyone, it would take much time to sway them into joining the Decepticon Empire. Their Earth ranks were beginning to thin dangerously. If they refused… well, the femme looks like she might prove to be amusing entertainment for a while and there was always room on top of the scrap heap for the mech.

Starscream angled his alt down to descend on them.

(((O)))(((O)))

* * *

-(Tranquility, Nevada: Desert/City Limits)-

With a quick scan of the area and determining no other humans around Hawkeye made a sudden tight turn, kicking up a dust cloud as he went, already beginning his transformation sequence. His driver-side door opened, causing Damien to spill out onto the sand in a practiced fall, the wizard rolled off to the side safely.

The frontliner was already in his bi-peddle form just as Barricade came careening at him in a tackle. The colony mech used the incoming bot's momentum and rolled back onto his back with the black and white when the two connected. Planting one of his peds in the 'Con's abdomen area Hawkeye kicked, sending Barricade flying away before standing. His hand disappeared as his arm reconfigured into a blaster.

"Who the slag are you? We didn't want any trouble so why are you chasing us?"

Barricade was already standing back on his feet, the sharp edges of his saw-like mace weapon glinted wickedly in the light of the afternoon sun. "My designation id Barricade of the Decepticons. I got orders from Lord Megatron to escort you and the femme to him. He's got a proposition for you, one you should heed. Come quietly and there'll be no need for me to hurt you. Your little meat bag pets can rot in the sun for all I care."

A sneer overcame the colony mech's faceplates. "I knew it. So you're a 'Con? In that case, no thanks!"

Not to far away, Nightgale had turned around and stopped next to Damien some good yards away from the battling mechs, letting Shanti dismount, before transforming. The saboteur's entire shy vanished in an instant leaving a soldier in its wake, the moment she confirmed an immediate threat to herself and her mate. This was not one of the training simulations she used to partake in. Now she was in live combat against a being she knew was far older and experienced than herself, there could be no room for a mistake. A pair of thin shafts sprung up as she lifted her arm, the exhaust pipe of her alt form was now a type of pump/barrel from which beam arrows were shot from. Nightgale stood in a guard position, her human partners standing behind one of her legs, her clover green optics narrowed as her battle analyses chip activated.

Blood red optics narrowed as the Selene bot crouched in a readied stance, studying the obnoxiously orange mech in front of him. The bot was just a little bigger than him, around the same high as the Autobot's Weapons Specialist Ironhide, a bit bulky but not overly top heavy, and had an arm blaster that sported cannon-like aspects to it for a right arm and a grenade launcher mounted on left arm. Barricade them looked his opponent in the optics, which were an odd hunter green color, and could see a mixed expression of grim determination and nervous excitement. The shock trooper could tell without further scrutiny that the mech standing against him was just a youngling with a weapon, a trained armature who never really fought in a real life-or-death battle before but came off the assembly line built for combat.

"Hahaha…" the black and white chuckled as he and the orange mech circled each other.

Hawkeye growled. "What are you laughing at?" he asked in a deep, dangerous voice.

Barricade gave a fanged, dark smirk. "Nothing, just another runt looking to get scrapped." he was amused by the annoyed grunt that answered him.

"Scrap THIS!" Hawkeye opened fire.

Barricade dodged and then darted forward faster than anyone though he could move, activating and swinging his mace. Hawkeye jumped back away from the cutting edges and loosed another round from his blaster that took of a bit of the Decepticon's armor. Barricade hissed as he sent a fist that caught his opponent's faceplates in a right hook. Hawkeye gritted his dentals as he stumbled back two steps. He then lashed out harshly with a backhand before his foot came up in a kick.

As the two mech brawled, knocking each other down while throwing punches and kicks wildly in the sand, the remaining three had become distracted as a new Decepticon descended on them from the sky.

Nightgale, Damien, and Shanti were hunkered behind an outcrop of large rock under a Protegra Maximus spell cast by the wizard. The shield spell itself was taking a heavy beating as rounds of bullets rained down on it, bouncing off harmlessly. Damien was already sweating and panting as he kept pouring in the magic to keep his Protegra up. Nightgale was busy returning fire, shooting arrows in rapid succession at the transformed F-22 Raptor. Shanti was busy analyzing the mech with her computer, looking for weak spots to exploit.

"Gale, aim for the wings. Take those out and he wont be able to dodge or fly away!"

"Right!"

Above Starscream was growing frustrated as he continued to empty his machine gun while evading arrows. The femme was good, he'd give her that much. She had detected him coming just before he reached within shooting range and had some sort of energy shield erected around her and the squishies. If he knew how to get around her defenses he could knock her out easily and rid the world of two more human insects in the process.

(((O))) (((O)))

* * *

Several miles away, some two thousand feet off the ground, from the fight were two C-17s, one of them carrying a quartet of strapped down mechs and a group of over fifty soldiers while the second held the remaining soldiers, and the four AH-64 Apache helicopters were gradually making their way closer.

"We picked up two unregistered signals and two known 'Cons, Barricade and Starscream. This is our chance to take out two important enemy bots so no screw ups." Major Lennox ordered from his seat onboard the lead cargo plane , his voice carrying to all open lines between his men and the Autobots. "We're not to engage the unknowns with lethal force unless fired upon first, understood?" he continued to say as he checked all his gear and weapons.

There was a chorus echo of "Sir, yes sir!" from the soldiers.

"Those are Optimus' direct orders." Prowl said pointedly to the black Topkick truck in front of him and to the silver and gold Stingrays in the second plane. He knew full well how trigger happy, as humans would say, Ironhide was and would go in cannons blazing.

Ironhide's engine rumbled in response. "I know that. Quit busting my manifolds about it already!"

From the second plane the twin were listening Sideswipe was already beginning to feel giddy with anticipation., "You know if Starscream is there his loser Trine Partners ain't far away. Leave that screechy glitch and his wing mates to Me and Sunny. We can handle them." It had been a while since he got the chance to use his Jet Judo. Sunstreaker was also looking forward to meeting the Trine again in battle so he could rip their wings off and decorate the walls of his shared quarters with them.

"Don't call me Sunny!" Sideswipe ignored his brother's nickname rebuff for the nth time as he plotted. **:: Anyway, you going to be alright against Barricade, Prowl. You two got history after all. :: **Sunstreaker asked over his comm.

Prowl was silent for a moment before answering in a clipped tone, **:: I will be fine. Your concern is appreciated but not needed. ::**

It was only a few minutes later the intercom crackled on and pilot's voice reverberated through the cabin, **:: We're coming over the drop zone. :: **he informed, **:: Jump Master, prepare for bail out. ::**

The Jump Master of the plane hooked himself up to a safety harness and prepared to open the ramp as the collection of soldiers as they stood to secure their gear and fastening parachutes on themselves and the mechs while removing their restraints.

Both of the C-17s cargo doors began opening as they flew over the fight. Three cars and a truck drove out from the flying transports and began to free fall, closely followed by eighty-six armed human soldiers.

(((O))) (((O)))

* * *

Thundercracker and Skywarp had arrived at the scene of the fight moments before and immediately began their assault on the Nightgale and Hawkeye, though it irked Barricade when Skywarp began to assist him as if he couldn't hand the young pick-up on his own.

The Protegra spell Damien had cast had long since collapsed when he exhausted his magic reserves under the combined weight of both Seeker's attacks. Shanti had to half drag his worn out body away under the natural protection of the boulders around them as Nightgale herself was forced to run to draw their fire away from her vulnerable companions.

"Run, little femme, run! It make the hunt all the more enjoyable."

Thundercracker chuckled in dark amusement at Starscream's taunting as the femme tried to escape. "Try not to damage her to much Starscream, Lord Megatron wants them in one piece." he reminded his Trine Leader.

The two were so distracted by their fleeing prey that neither F-22 noticed a pair a of gleaming silver and gold dots disconnecting from parachutes grow into a pair of near identical mech above them.

The tattooed flyer scoffed. He knew enough of Megatron to know he would see the femme as weak. He would offline her when she outlived her usefulness, which would happen the moment she came into base. The mech of the pair would probably be reprogrammed and branded to better suit the Decepticon needs. "I doubt he truly cares how we bring them in as long as-"

"JET JUDO!" chorused a pair of voices in stereo cut Starscream off.

Starscream and Thundercracker were unexpectedly burdened by a sudden weight on their backs. The blue Seeker screeched in pain as a silver blade pierced through his right wing and a gleefully maniacal voice, woefully familiar, all but shouted in his audio, "Hey Cracker! I missed you!"

"What's the deal Screamer! You don't write or call! Don't you care about me anymore? " came Sunstreaker's sarcastic greeting as a vicious fanged smirk graced his faceplates, one clawed hand raking harshly into Starscream's back and locked in place, drawing out a screech of pain.

The two F-22s bucked and twisted in mid-air, trying to dislodge the whooping and cheering Autobot twins from their frames. Over with Skywarp and Barricade, the black and purple Seeker turned off his attack on the strange orange mech when her heard T.C.'s pained scream. He hadn't even moved two yards when Skywarp came under fire. Ironhide and Prowl transformed and landed only a moment after the twins fell on the Seekers. The black Weapons Specialist's cannons spun out as he immediately opened fire on the youngest of the Trine while Prowl, who's bipedal form looked somewhat akin to a samurai, rushed at Barricade, knocking him off the unfamiliar orange mech. The human soldiers touched ground three minutes later to provide support fire against the Seekers. Lennox ordered several of the soldiers to locate and secure the two civilians he had seen during the air drop.

Before too long the tides of battle began to change with the appearance of the Autobots and the NEST soldiers.

"Yahoo!" Sideswipe cheered as he held the Seeker's wings in a painfully tight grip.

Thundercraker managed to through Sideswipe from him to the ground several yards below. He reached back and slowly pulled the silver blade out of his wing, grunting and hissing in pain as mech fluids and Energon leaked from the wound. Flame red optics looked down at the silver twin with burning hatred and anger. Thundercracker threw the Cybertronian blade at its owner like a javelin, intending to skewer him. Sideswipe, however, saw this and rolled out of the way before the sword could impale him, and right into the path of a shower of bullets from the fighter jet's machine gun.

Thundercracker smirked as the twin used his second sword to shield his more vital areas from the Seeker's attack. "Let's see if that measly sword of yours can protect you from this!" The blue 'Con had drawn his rocket launcher and target locked. "Die!" he yelled and moved to squeeze the trigger.

There was a sudden yellow-orange flash and a whistle before a short beam exploded on impact with Thundercracker's arm. "I'm still here!" The blue flyer turned to see the purple femme they'd been sent to retrieve with the orange mech. Nightgale began shooting her arrows with increasing speed forcing the Decepticon away from the Autobot. Sideswipe immediately got back on his wheeled peds, snatched up his sword, and went on the offensive.

Nearby Sunstreaker was positively tearing into Starscream with a viciousness borne of many long years of battle. The Seeker leader had thrown Sunstreaker off his back violently and shot at his spark chamber in hopes of offlining the gold twin quickly. The vein mech was able to protect himself but ended up ruining his armor in the process. Starscream's attack kept Sunstreaker pinned for a few moments when distraction came in the form of the femme he'd been taunting earlier when she shot him in the back, nailing him on one of his twin thrusters. Once given an opening, Sunstreaker, after noticing the state of his appearance, came at the flier hard and fast. It was all Starscream could do to barely keep the golden twin from offlining him after his lapse of attention. Much of his plating and Energon now decorated the desert floor as a testament of Sunstreaker's wrath.

Nightgale never missed a shot when she found an opening between the two fights. She wasn't the only one offering support fire either. Half of the NEST humans were all hunkered down around her shooting their munitions rounds empty in a serious effort to kill off the Seekers. The Trine, from the beginning, had been the most sought after hunting targets next to Megatron and a few other Decepticon officers.

Two of NEST's field medics and a gunner had located Shanti and a barely conscious Damien, both of them sporting impressive scraps and bruises.

Hawkeye was standing at Ironhide's side, his fight against Barricade had been rudely taken from him, with about a dozen or so human soldiers and was making good use of his cannons and launcher against Skywarp. The black and purple jet was a trick opponent to pin down with his warping ability, but he did destroy the two of the helicopters that kept him pinned closer to the ground for Ironhide.

Barricade's battle against Prowl was more quick and decisive in the Autobot's lead tactician's favor, as Barricade observed. The Decepticon black and white had known Prowl for many vorns before the war started. They had both been Praxian enforcers and protectors of the Youth Centers and at times worked together as partners.

Because of their shared work history, Barricade knew much about Prowl, from his hard-aft, cool and calculating persona to the fact that he was one of the few mechs to master the Circuit-Su fighting style, and that he fought with both a rifle that shot acid pellets and several throwing stars. It was a bit of a shock to see that instead of trying to disarm and disable him, as he'd done in their previous encounters as enemies, Prowl intentionally trying to permanently offline him; strategically going after all his potentially lethal weak points with fast, pinpoint accurate strikes. Then there were also the occasional fleshling soldiers taking potshots aimed specifically at the gaps and joints between his armor plating during the intermissions of Prowl's attacks. Their sabot rounds, and modified weaponry did hurt and was very capable of killing him. This kept him in constant movement and was all together wearing him down fast.

Barricade had fallen to one knee with a pained cry as when the humans shot out one of his knee joints form behind and was knocked back by Prowl with a shot to his chest. _~Good bye, old partner~ _was the last thing he heard in Cybertronian before a blinding, burning pain of acid eating away into his spark casing. He was offline within moments.

It wasn't long before Starscream began seeing how he and his fellow 'Cons were at a great disadvantage. "Decepticons! Fall back!" he called, already fleeing, leaving a trail of black smoke from his one disabled thruster. His injuries were grievous enough that he was unable to transform.

Thundercracker glared down at Sideswipe and Nightgale in rage. "This isn't over, Autoscum!" he announced before transforming into his alt form and flying off. Skywarp, the least damaged of the Decepticons, his warped away after his Trine Mates.

(((O))) (((O)))

* * *

When the dust of the fight settled, the mechs (and femme) all looked at each other in wary suspicion, taking in each others' appearances.

"… so, Autobots, eh?" Hawkeye began not really sure of what else to say. At his side Nightgale stood, her battle computed still active and waiting to be put to use again, and being held protectively in one arm was Shanti and a disoriented Damien. The orange mech kept his arm cannon hot and charged for any sudden threatening movement.

Prowl, as the highest ranking officer, stepped to the fore. He gave the two a quick once over before greeting them. "Yes, we are the Autobots. I am Prowl, Second in command and tactician. My comrades are Ironhide, our Weapons Specialist,"

The hulking black mech nodded and grunted his greeting, "Nice set of cannons you got there kid." Hawkeye smirked at the praise.

"The twins, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe,"

Sideswipe grinned at Nightgale and said, "Thanks for the help earlier." The purple Fireblade gave a sheepish smile.

Sunstreaker was hardly paying anyone any mind as he was busy looking in disdain at each scuff, scratch, and dent in his armor. "Yeah, what they said." he said absently, almost rudely.

"And our human allies; the special military task force called NEST." the tactician motioned the crowd of humans at his feet.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Hawkeye, my bondmate Nightgale, and our friends Shanti Rowlington and Damien Moore." he pointed out each of his companions, "We're neutrals."

The declaration of their status got a bit of a reaction out of the four mechs. "Really now?" Ironhide asked as he looked the pair over more closely. "You're both packing a bit too much heat to be neutral."

"War always has a way to drag down those who do not wish to get involved." Nightgale answered. "We are prepared to defend ourselves but we will not pick sides."

Prowl nodded at this. "Any particular reason Decepticons were after you?"

The bonded pair shrugged, a very human gesture. Shanti then answered, "We were just minding our own business when that psycho cop car," she pointed at Barricade's sparkless shell, "came out of nowhere and started stalking us. When we left the city he attacked us, said something about escorting Hawk and Gale to their base and a proposition from their leader. Then those planes came and then you guys."

As Prowl carefully turned over the young woman's words Ironhide asked, "How long have you two been here anyway?"

Nightgale answered with a small smile, "Nearly ten full years." Her response was both honest yet only half true. She and Hawkeye were both sparked in the same year group almost ten years ago. These Autobots simply believed they mad planet fall all those years ago and Nightgale was willing to let them believe what they wanted until the mission was over.

"And how long have you guys known the bots?" Epps asked the humans, curious and wondering how in all the time NEST had been active they never found them before now.

Shanti smirked and said, "I've known these two for about three years." she pointed at the mech and femme. "We picked up Damien last year. We've been roaming around the country together since."

By then Lennox had already begun counting the dead and analyzing the damage before contacting NEST base to report while Epps called back the transport planes and ordered for the clean-up and disposal crew. Will looked at the four across from him speculatively as he listened to the communications officer relay orders to him back on base. Somehow, just somehow he knew, these four gave him a gut feeling that they weren't being totally upfront with them. He saw they way the bots and humans kept giving each other secrete looks of silent communication. It was like they knew something important and weren't telling. It didn't sit well with the major but it wasn't like he could call them out on it.

"Okay, time to pack up. Our air transports landed at Nellis Airbase and are refueled and waiting. Clean up crews and ground rides will be here in ten to pick us up." he informed before looking to the new bots. "Optimus Prime has requested your presence. He want's to talk with you."

Damien made a show of snorting in mild disbelief, a slight sneer on his face. "What's with all the attention we're getting so suddenly from the faction leaders today?" Not that he was complaining, this was exactly their objective, making contact with Prime, but they couldn't seem eager to let themselves be taken without some resistance. They had to keep the mission under wraps for a while longer.

Lennox shrugged as he noticed in the distance was a large rising dust cloud from two non-descriptive black semi-trucks, three white HazMat vans. "Optimus just wants to talk. And protocol states any new bots and personal must see Ratchet, the CMO for the Autobots, in case they've sustained any damage during or before planet fall or after battles. Your friends look like they could use a medic right now."

It was true. Almost all of the bots looked a little beaten up, more so the twins and Nightgale than the others.

"You do not have to come," Prowl added, "But it would be appreciated if you did."

"I say go for it." Hawkeye said, earning looks from his three companions. "What? It's not like we have anything else really worth doing."

Nightgale twiddled her thumbs in a very human show of nervousness. "… I t-th-think m-maybe it wouldn't b-be so bad?"

Shanti shrugged. "Whatever, I'm not leaving Hawk and Gale by themselves." she then muttered lowly, know the bots could still hear, "besides, bonded or not, Hawk pervs on Gale too much to be healthy."

"Hey!" came the indignant response. Gale squeaked in embarrassment while the mechs

Damien groaned in 'annoyance'. "Fine, I know when I'm out voted." he then turned to the major. "Where are you taking us anyway?" the man asked through narrow eyes

Will gave a thin smirk. "Classified location, sir. I hope you have a book or something, it's going to be a long trip."

This time Damien's annoyance was real.


	4. Enlighten

**Author's Note****: Thanks for being patient with me and sorry for the late update. I had a bit of a klutz attack and accidentally spilt juice on my keyboard so I had to replace it {sweatdrop}. Anyway, before we continue on with the chappie I'd like to thank all the people who reviewed. Thank you, you're wonderful! Also, I should be posting a guide of sorts soon to explain certain things about Los Magia that may or may not appear in the fic so look for that too. Now, happy reading everyone!**

(((O))) (((O)))

* * *

-(Diego Garcia Base)-

"So am we done yet?" Hawkeye asked in a bored manner as Ratchet put the finishing touches on repairing his cannon.

Ratchet cast an annoyed glare at the young orange mech and nodded. "Aside from some cosmetic work, yes, we're done."

Hawkeye pushed himself off the berth he was forced to sit on and inspected his cannon critically. Finding no fault, Hawk looked over at the second berth several feet away at his bonded who was laying there in medical stasis as a human woman, a Mikeala Banes, was hard at work tinkering with some of the smaller, more delicate parts in here left arm. Hawkeye's hand clenched as he looked at his bonded's still faceplates. She had come out of the fight in the desert a little more worse than wear compared to him and that agitated Hawkeye greatly. It also served to open his optics about how inadequate and underdeveloped his current fighting skills were. Sure he trained his aft off, knew how to shoot and at what and when, how to defend himself in hand-to-hand combat, and could think and plan on the battlefield, but these Cybertronians seemed like they were leagues above his own. It was irritating how he couldn't protect her.

The orange colony mech felt a hand fall on his shoulder and looked up to lock optics with Ratchet. "She'll be fine, so don't go blaming yourself." The search and rescue Hummer walked over to the monitoring devices overhead her berth to get the readouts on her vitals.

"Her damage wasn't sever enough for anything more than replacement of some warped armor plating and a few frayed wirings." Mikeala called back reassurance to him, unable to help overhearing the conversation.

At that moment the medbay's doors opened. Both mechs and girl turned to look at who was there and found a veritable juggernaut of a mostly blue mech with red flames standing at the room's threshold. Optimus Prime stepped fully into 'The Hatchet's Domain of Horror', as some of the younger mechs on base had dubbed the Medbay, with a mix of a healthy dose of trepidation of the medic to temper the confidence borne of having spent several mega-vorns with the title of leader of the Autobots.

"Good morning, Ratchet, Mikeala." He was greeted back with 'Prime' absently from the Autobot medic and a friendly half-wave from the human before he looked down into the green optics of one of two newest additions to the Diego Garcia base. "And you must be Hawkeye. It's good to finally meet you, young one."

"…Nice to meet you." Hawkeye nodded, a little transfixed at the Autobot leader's sheer presence. He had seen pictures of the mech on the news and on video feeds before he came topside, but nothing could prepare him to just stand in front of the giant who stood completely head, shoulders, and chest over him. It was more or less almost like being around the Creator, but not quite. Where the Creator was small and powerful, a fatherly and caring creature able to grant life to lifeless machines and defy the laws of physics, while Optimus Prime almost seemed larger than life, powerful and noble, a being of immense knowledge and experience due to his greater age and strength of body. He was the embodiment of what young warrior mechs like Hawk aspired to be like.

"Ratchet, how are your patients?"

The highlight yellow-green mech looked at his leader over his shoulder and said, "Fine for the most part. Newbie here is all fixed up now and just needs a touch-up to his paintjob, but that can be done later. The femme just needs some replacement wiring, a few of the relays in her arm were damaged, and her plating needs straightening, but overall her damage is nothing life threatening. And I've already finished with the others and kicked them out."

Optimus nodded at all this before asking, "What about Sam?"

At the mention of the human teen Ratchet looked over at a berth that was half hidden by a drawn curtain and sat closer to the back of the room. Mikeala, Optimus, and Hawkeye followed his line of sight to the same place. "He's stable and unconscious, I gave him some anesthetic. I did a few scans on him and found excessive amounts of neuron activity than normal in his brain. I'll put together a full detailed report for you to read on my findings and have it on your desk later."

Optimus didn't miss Ratchet's meaningful glance over at Hawkeye. The larger mech nodded. "I'll be waiting for it. Is Sam able to have visitors? Bumblebee is beginning to wear holes in the floor."

"I'll call him in shortly." If Ratchet could, he'd roll his optics at the yellow youngling's impatience. "For now, take this orange menace and get the slag out of my Medbay before I toss something."

Optimus nodded with a slightly nervous chuckle then turned, gesturing Hawkeye to follow him out. The smaller mech cast an uncertain look back at his mate before looking between Ratchet and Optimus, he turned and slowly walked out the room. Once the two were out in the halls of the base Optimus began making his way back to his office, striking up conversation with Hawkeye as he went. "So, may I ask you how long you and your mate have been on Earth? We never detected your approach to the planet."

Hawkeye hitched his shoulders in a shrug and answered, "Me and Nightgale have been living on Earth for about ten years. From what I heard on the news, the first Autobot came here almost eight years ago." the orange mech pointed out. He, like Nightgale, used the incomplete true alibi they had decided to employ to explain their presence before the mission officially started.

"I see. It's intriguing how so many of our kind seemed to be pulled to this planet. Like we all seem magnetically drawn here." It was true, there were many instances when the Cybertronian race all seemed to come to Earth at indiscriminate points in history. First was when the Fallen, with his Sun Harvester and Jetfire, had come to the land that would eventually become Egypt, next the All-Spark and Megatron's crash landing in the arctic, then, it would seem, the two neutrals' arrival, after that was Bumblebee and the Decepticons scouting for the All-Spark, then he and the rest of his contingent, and finally the random groups of new arrivals that were being called. Optimus didn't think he would be surprised if other Cybertronians happened to come across this organic blue world in the past.

"Maybe its fate we Transformers ended up on this planet." Hawkeye stated rather than asked.

Optimus glanced down at the young mech who kept his gaze ahead before nodding in agreement. "This planet has become our haven, the second chance our dwindling kind so desperately needs… Unfortunately, the Decepticons do not seem to care if we are now a dying race or not. Earth is just another planet to conquer and destroy, and its natives, just another race of organics to exterminate."

Hawkeye gritted his dental plates and growled in both irritation and fuming anger. "They're a bunch of glitched slagtarded fools!" the orange mech raged, stopping in the middle of the hall, causing Prime to also stop and listen. "Cybertron is dead now, the All-Spark is gone, and the race is on the fast track heading for extinction! But so long as they can rule an empire, even its over an empire of _nothing_, they don't care! It's so stupid! Even the humans, as violent as they are with their primitive technology, seem to know better than to fight until their entire race disappears!"

"It's the sad fate of our kind. Megatron was promised the title of Prime, a title one can only be born with, and would not relent. Now that he knows he could never have my title he will do the next best thing. Conquer and build his own kingdom of anarchy." Optimus resumed is walking until he came to his office door, Hawkeye not far behind.

"I won't let them destroy this world. I'd slag him to the Pit if I ever got my servos on him."

Then Prime became silent as he studied his companion. "…I can tell by looking at you that you're a trained fighter but lack experience, right? Hawkeye?"

The mech in questioned turned away slightly, already beginning to calm down, and crossed his arms. "Yeah, kind of. What of it?"

"Then tell me, why do you not join the Autobots? You have the potential, the passion and attitude to join."

Green optics shuddered as Hawkeye crossed his arms stubbornly. "Because I can't. I have something precious I promised to protect. Choosing sides would mean I'd have to give it up, turn my back on it. I just can't do that. Besides, Gale and I won't be here much longer so it doesn't matter. Please understand."

"I understand. I will not pressure you into something you do not want."

"Thanks Prime…"

Optimus waved the thanks off. "Think no more of it. And call me Optimus. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a stack of unread datapads that need my attention, another time then Hawkeye." the flaming semi said as he entered his office.

"Sure, whenever."

(((O))) (((O)))

* * *

-(Los Magia: Liberty Tech Memorial)-

Medi walked through the halls of Liberty Tech a little… mechanically. No pun intended. She was on her way to the recovery room 302 in west wing of the hospital and she was not alone in her trot. Flanking her left one step ahead of her was the head medic, Lifeline. He was a fairly tall mech, nearly twice her size, with olive green optics, a wide chest and broad shoulders, like all medics within the colony he was a uniformed white and red color, and was able to transform into a search and rescue helicopter. He was one of the oldest mechs in the colony, the middle of the Creator's first five sparks. While he may not have been on of the Magisters, he did have one of the higher seats as a member of the ten Council of State.

To her direct left was one of the Magisters, Lady Siren along with four of the strongest guards from the elite Guardian Force, or GF for short. The GF were as their name implied, guardians, a specially trained taskforce who protected the higher ranks of the society within the colony; the Council of State, the Magisters, the Creator, and other high ranking officials.

As they walked the other medics and patients walking around in the ward recognized them and gave them a wide berth. "Relax, Medi, there's no need to be tense." Lifeline gave an amused smirk down at her as he led the group while laughter sounded from the red and gold robed man perched in his hand. The Creator gave the femme medic a smile a proud parent would give a loved child.

"Yes, sir." she said stiffly, though she was attempting to sound calm. It wasn't everyday she got to have direct contact with the source of her existence.

The Creator gave Medi a searching look before saying, "Does my presence make you uncomfortable, Medi?"

Medi started at the sudden question and turned to look at her originator. "N-no! I mean, not at all. I'm perfectly fine." At his knowing look she knew he saw through her transparent answer. "I'm just not used to seeing you in person much." she answered honestly.

The Creator hummed. "A mistake I'll need to set right." he looked up as the group came to a stop in front of a door. "Is this the room our guest is in?"

Lifeline nodded. "Yes, Creator." his faceplates then pinched a little in annoyed frustration. "Ever since he came online yesterday he's been a right terror. The worst, most stubborn patient to ever come under my care." Lifeline complained. To the Creator's credit, he hadn't laughed out loud, only patting his creation's fingers sympathetically. "Right, now, you only have a few minutes visitation before his surgery, so please be quick." Lifeline said as he punched in his access code and the door slid open.

Jazz looked up from this really good suspense novel datapad he'd been given earlier to help ward off boredom to see a small troupe of mechs and femmes at his door. Four of the visitors stayed outside, as if guarding the door, while his nurse, Medi, the mech named Lifeline, who was holding an oddly dressed human, and another femme he didn't know entered. He had met Lifeline yesterday when the mech came to do some analyst testing on his legs. It had been fun to mess with this doc-bot. Unlike with Ratchet, he wasn't threatened with a wrench to the cranial unit, just a larger than strictly necessary needle to the neck.

"Good morning Jazz. How do you feel?"

Jazz shrugged. "Meh, could be better if I weren't confined to this berth. Or had my mobility back. And maybe some music too would be very, _very_ appreciated." he said, then turned his optics to the new face among them. "And who's this pretty fine femme. You don't look like a medic."

Siren gave the silver bot a flirty, energetic smile. "Oh, no one important, just the femme that pulled your shiny silver aft out of the drink and saved ya from vicious sea barnacles."

"Oh! Well, much obliged then." he smirked. "I'm First Lieutenant Jazz of the Autobot forces, Head of Special Forces (re: Black Ops), Alien Cultural Analyst, part time singer, and all around good guy."

The blue-ish femme raised an optic ridge at his credentials. "I'm Siren, second seat Magister of Los Magia, head of the Naval forces, marine biologist, and part-time singer."

Jazz instantly became more focused on Siren and her given title. She was important, maybe even a noble, he could see it in the way she held herself. Jazz could see the aquamarine colored femme's frame was built to be streamline, fast, and of the sea-fairing variety and that she was a close combat fighter. The small three shot torpedo launchers attached to her shoulders and lower legs as well as the triton held by a loose yet ready hand spoke for her, he could also see the seam of a sheathed blade hidden in left forearm. Then there was also the look in her optics, Jazz had a feeling that under that flirty, bubbly personality lay a femme who would not hesitate to happily take his head off with that triton of hers at the first sign of hostility from him.

"I must say, Primus above must've been in a truly generous mood to bless me enough to be in the presence of two divine beauties; a songstress of the sea and a heavenly angel of mercy." The femmes giggled and shyly looked away, Siren and Medi's reactions respectively. Lifeline was almost ready to purge his tank, the Autobot was laying the romantic sweet talk on to thick for him.

"You're quite a flatterer." Siren's optics dimmed slightly in a way that gave her a saucy look.

"That he is." The Creator commented somewhat blithely from his reclined position in Lifeline's hand. Jazz attention switched from the femme to the lone human in the room. "Hello, Jazz. Good to finally meet you face to face."

Jazz's optics shuttered under his dark visor. "Likewise, but who are you?"

Lifeline put the human down at the foot of Jazz's berth before moving over to the monitors to check the silver mech's recovery status. The little man went about straightening his robes as he answered, "Ah, where are my manners? My name is Harrison James Potter, Harry for short." he gave the Autobot a short wave and smile that was returned before continuing, "But everyone here calls me the Creator."

Jazz's processor froze as he looked the young man over. He looked no older than Sam Witwicky the last time he saw the boy, though a bit on the short side, had wild longish ebony hair that was blacker than night and striking bright green eyes that almost seemed to glow, and wore magician's robes that made him look like he just walked straight out of some fantasy game. "… Creator…?" he asked. "As in the one who made all of this," he motioned at the room in general, "and them?" he pointed at the bots in his room.

Harry nodded, highly amused at the saboteur's confusion. "Well, I did have a lot of help constructing this place, but yes, I did."

"But, how?" the Autobot had so many questions he wanted to ask now that the one who held all the answers was now standing in front of him.

"Magic" Harry gave a slow mischievous grin and folded his arms. He received an almost deadpanned look. "I can tell you probably have a million and one questions more, but it's a bit of a long story."

Silver shoulders hitched in an imitation of a shrug. "I've got time."

"Actually, you have one more surgery in the next twenty minutes." Lifeline corrected as he an Medi began unhooking Jazz from the stationary monitors. "We'll need to take him now, so please finish up. We're already beginning to run behind schedule and I have other patients to tend to."

Harry nodded, knowing Lifeline had already pushed back his schedule to allow this short visit. "In that case, I'll come back later. But I'll say this much, there's more to Earth than what you see on the surface. Even the people who live in this world are kept ignorant from the vast secrets hidden just out of sight." he said as he raised his hand and flicked his wrist at the blinded windows.

Jazz stared as the blinds raised on their own, idling wondering how the little man did that, before he took his first look at the outside world. He saw a flourishing small city (by Cybertronian standards) just beyond the reinforced safety glass in the morning light. It so distinctly reminded him of a Cybertronian city back during the Golden Era, yet he could see aspects of Earth nature integrated into it. The different shades of grey made by the buildings were broken up by splashes of greens and blues and so many other colors only seemed to make the city more beautiful in Jazz's optics. Humans were flamboyantly colorful beings and when they applied it with just the right amount of imagination, some of the things they'd create were truly stunning. It was almost like the city escaped the war by leaving Cybertron to settle on Earth.

"… This… how is-wow." he stumbled uncharacteristically trying to express his surprised awe. "Almost like Cybertron…"

"Impressive sight, isn't it? The city outside that window is unlike any other on this planet. It is everything and more the people of Earth wish to see within the next century." he said as Siren helped him off the berth. "That said, there are a lot of self-centered people out there who would no doubt come looking for this place to try to take it away if they ever found out about it. I've spent too much time building a home for the people who live here from scratch. This place is a secret safe haven for not only my children, but for all people looking for refuge to live freely. There are too many sparks and souls I'm responsible for here to needlessly endanger. I should like to keep it as it is when I have you turn loose back to the Autobots." Harry said as he and Siren made for the door.

"Optimus and the others, they don't know about this place, do they?"

Harry stopped at the door as it opened and smirked back at the Autobot. "Of course not, why would they? But not worry, I'm sure they'll be made aware shortly. I'm looking forward to them visiting."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I want to meet them and have already sent out invitations. Who knows, when your war is truly over they may wish to become citizens here or build their own home somewhere." Harry wondered out load. "Well, I have other appointments to keep so I'll see you later!" with that the door closed behind Harry and Siren, leaving the medics to their work prepping Jazz for surgery.

(((O))) (((O)))

* * *

-(Unknown Location)-

Sam stared at his familiar surroundings with a detached sort of expectation as he paced around. He stood on one of many rock ledges in a place that resembled a maze of towering rock formations. The land below was forever covered in a almost violent swirl and mix of mist and dust. There was also the perpetual overly bright sunset/rise on the horizon that panted the dull blue sky a dusky yellow-orange. Sam knew this was the place where the original Primes brought him when he died trying to get the Matrix dust to Optimus' offline body back during the fight against the Decepticons in Egypt.

He could vaguely sense the presences of the six Primes hanging around him though he didn't know where exactly they were, but he had a feeling he was being watched. That irritated Sam to the point where his nervous habits began acting up. He had been sitting in this place of limbo for what felt like days now and not one Prime approached him yet. Sam was beginning to get frustrated and wondered if the Primes were the ones who called him or if he had somehow come on his own.

"So, you're here too? Finally, someone else not a Prime comes here." Sam whirled around when a sudden unknown male voice, it was soft and somewhat low, having a cultured British accent that reminded Sam a little of Bumblebee when he decided to talk with his own voice, interrupted his thoughts. "I was beginning to think I was the only human who knew about this place."

Standing not far away on a different plateau a little to his right was a man who was staring directly at him. Sam studied his newfound company's appearance for a moment and found it hard to find any real descriptive details except for a few. By voice he sounded a little younger than him and stood shorter than him by at least half a head. The silky yet simple set of billowy, hooded magician's robes he wore were prominently a dark blue with bronze trim, had a high collar and with its wide hood up, making it impossible to fully his face save for his unearthly bright green human eyes.

"Hello, nice to meet you."

Sam could tell from the way the other's eyes narrowed he was being smiled at. "Yeah, nice to meet you…Wh-who are you..?" the youngest Witwicky asked.

The question earned him a thoughtful hum. "Lets just say I'm a friend who's willing to help the Autobots begin repopulation and build a home here on Earth."

Sam couldn't help but blink in surprise. "How can you do that?" Sam asked, looking a little guilty and depressed. "The All-Spark is gone, I destroyed it the first time I killed Megatron."

The hood and robed man nodded. "Too true, it was a hard decision to make, I know, but you did it to save people's lives." Sam nodded, but his eyes didn't seem to agree. "Look, I know how to create and recreate Sparks. Its not too hard, a bit tiring, but not hard."

"No way… that's impossible!"

The stranger scoffed. "Nothing's impossible, improbable, but not impossible, especially for people like us."

Sam shook his head. "There's nothing all that special about me."

The cloaked man rolled his eyes. "Right, like normal people can talk to each other through their dreams." he mocked with crossed arms. "Anyway, I know who you are, Samuel James Witwicky. You can call me Harry." The hood finally came down, revealing a teenager hardly older than Sam, in fact he looked at least two or three years younger. He had flawless pale skin that sharply contrasted with wild blacker than night hair. The smile on the younger teen's face was gentle and peaceful, but those eyes… Sam could see secretes in those eerie green eyes and a bunch of other thing floating through them; more maturity than him, devious mischievousness, an odd kind of fatherly caring, a devil-may-care sort of attitude, and several other more guarded emotions.

"What are you doing here anyway?" Sam asked with narrowing eyes as he inched back.

Harry smirked at the Witwicky boy's wariness. "I'm here to talk, but not with you. It was just as much of a surprise for me to see you here as it was for you to see me."

Sam opened his mouth to question Harry again when, "Ah, so you are both here, good," a powerful and positively ancient voice suddenly cut in, seeming to drift in from nowhere and everywhere at the same time. Both turned to see six mechs, each wielding staffs sharing similar yet different frames with each other and standing as tall as Optimus, approach them from the churning mist/dust. "It is satisfying to see that the two of you have finally met."

"Primes…"

"You mean… you all planned this?" Sam asked incredulously as he pointed to the lead Prime, Prima Prime.

The mech in question nodded as another to the far left, Sentinel Prime, spoke in an equally powerful if slightly graveled voice, "It was necessary that the two of you come together."

Sam gave the mechs a confused look. "How come?"

The next of the original Primes that spoke was known as Vector Prime, the most wizened and… timely looking of the group, "You have both been granted power that together would save the Cybertronian race from extinction."

"The All-Spark." Sam blurted out, immediately concluded. "I've been seeing ancient Cybertronian again." The college student then looked over to his cloaked companion who remained silent, face blank, wondering what his power was.

"Correct," Prima answered as he stared at Sam, "One granted its knowledge of ancient times past," his optics flickered over to the other human, "And one granted its power of creation."

Nexus Prime, who stood near the back of the group added, "You both are but two halves of a whole. Our descendant, Optimus Prime, Last Descendant of The Primes and Keeper of the Matrix, holds the title of All-Spark Guardian."

By then, the robbed man finally decided to speak. "…Why us?" Harry asked simply, if a bit tightly, the one question that had been plaguing him. It would seem Fate was at work again. Six pairs of optics and one pair of eyes turned to him.

"For you, Samuel... when you came into direct contact with the All-Spark, it imprinted much of itself in your bloodline. It watched you during you run through Mission City and because of your bravery and willingness to protect it from those who would misuse and abuse its power, you were judged a suitable vessel to pass on its knowledge to. The All-Spark sliver you found simply activated the dormant information it gave you." Megatronus Prime informed. "Aside from seeing ancient Cybertronian, you must've noticed other changes of your mind; sudden knowledge without study, mass information assimilation, increased awareness and analytical capabilities? These are but a few basic abilities gifted to you. Other more pronounced abilities will come with time."

The final Prime of the group and only femme, Nova Prime, then pointed at Harry. "For you Harrison, the All-Spark has been in your bloodline since one of your ancestors, a Delilah Evens, your Great-grandmother I believe, touched it when the Cube was being moved from its crash site in the Antarctic to its former holding place under the Hoover Dam." She explained in a smooth and serious voice. "Because of her already existing innate abilities and maternal nature as a femme, it secretly imprinted into her the power to create. Since her inherent powers were present the All-Spark decided to use it to fuel its spark creation power, but her energies were too unstable, always erratic, she could not produce enough energy to cause a spark creation. Her son and you grandfather was also the same way, your aunt had nothing to offer, but your mother, however, did have the required stability but lacked the power. But then you were born, and with your birth came stability and required power. The fact you produced your first spark by the time you were seven denotes how strong you are."

"… I see." Harry said slowly, digesting the information on the origins of his powers.

"Okaay…So what do we do now?" Sam asked, trying to steer the conversation away from cryptic talk and towards something he could actually understand.

"Now, the pieces of the All-Spark and the Matrix of Leadership must be kept safe." Prima informed. "Megatron shall come for you, Samuel, if only to have revenge for your role in aiding the Autobots, killing him, and reviving Optimus. He knows not your status as an All-Spark fragment. And if the Decepticons were to ever find you, Harrison, they will seek you out."

"I have one more question…" Harry called out the Primes, sensing their discussion was coming to an end. "Am I stuck the way I am because of the All-Spark?"

There was a small pause as the mechs looked at one another. Vector Prime was the one who answered, "The people of your original social order were considered long lived by human standards. If they were never murdered by that wicked _man_ you fought, your mother's family would have shown to have kept their youth much longer than any other from your society due to the partially active All-Spark energy. That energy is fully active in you."

Harry nodded with a slightly bitter laugh. "Well, on the bright side, I'll never have to worry about leaving my kids because of old age."

"Old age?"

Harry turned to look at the confused and questioning Sam. "I'm a lot older than I appear." he explained evenly. "I looked fifteen when I was actually seventeen. I was seventeen when I came into my full inheritance. Now I'm a thirty year-old man trapped in my seventeen year-old body."

The Witwicky boy looked taken aback at the revelation. "Okay, not _that's _definitely impossible."

The older man rolled his eyes. "Must I repeat myself, young man? Not impossible, just improbable."

Prima looked down on both the human man-child and the now revealed child-man. "It is time to part ways.' he informed as a building light began to overtake the land. "We shall speak again when the two of you meet in the flesh."

Harry turned to Sam and said just before fading away, "Find Hawkeye and Nightgale, they will bring you to me…"

Sam didn't get a chance to ask who Hawkeye and Nightgale were before he was rudely yanked back into the waking world.

(((O))) (((O)))

* * *

-(Capital of Los Magia: Genesis Castle)-

Green eyes fluttered open as Harry woke up and found himself staring at several shelves and walls of books. He had gone up to his personal library that doubled as his office to get some paperwork done after a rather lengthy Council meeting and had fallen asleep in one of the chase sofas that decorated the room.

He sat up and stretched just as the door to his study opened and three maids came in to clean whatever dust had settled in the room. "Oh, forgive our intrusion, Lord Creator." the lead maid gave a polite curtsy. "We did not realize you were in here."

"That's okay." Harry looked towards the window to see it was a flock of birds fly by. "I was just napping …I had such an enlightening dream." he mumbled more to himself than to he maids.

(((O))) (((O)))

* * *

-(Diego Garcia Base)-

Bumblebee, with Leo in hand, rushed to the medbay as soon as he heard Sam was awake. Bee and Leo were not the only ones either heading to the medbay either. Optimus was also on his way to see the boy now that he was fully awake and lucid. The three met at the medbay's door that opened for them.

"Hey, quit scanning me already! I said, I'm _fine Ratchet!" Sam's irritated voice protested._

"_I'll be the judge of that young Samuel." Ratchet groused back. "Now be still youngling or I'll strap you down to the table!"_

_The three at the door watched as Sam tried to make a break for it. He yelped in surprise when he fell face first as Mikeala suddenly stuck out her foot and tripped him. The female mechanic sat on his back to keep him from moving and admonished, "God Sam, you can be such a baby. It's not like Ratchet's going to stick needles in you."_

"_Good work Mikeala. Now hold him down."_

"_Mikeala, you traitor."_

_The two medics and their reluctant patient turned their attention when light laughter drifted into the room from the visitor standing in the open door. _

"_Good to see you awake Sam." Optimus said as Bumblebee moved closer to his human charge, playing a happily relieved good morning sound clip._

_Sam managed to sit up some, giving Bee a quick greeting back before turning to the Autobot leader. "Optimus, we need to talk." The flaming semi's optics shuttered in question at the boy's serious tone along with everyone else's._


	5. Mission

=(Autobot/NEST Base, Diego Garcia)=

Walking through the halls and corridors of the Autobots' rather small and underdeveloped base of operations, Hawkeye had to wonder for the tenth time since stepping onto the remote tropical island base just how this group of humans and intergalactic 'cousins' of his managed to do half the things they do and still remain functioning. Most, if not the entire base, looked to be a hastily thrown together headquarters that was slowly being refined into something more suitable to its intended function. A great deal of the base was subterranean; the Autobot part of the base was about five or so human floors down under the human part of the base on the surface.

At the moment Hawkeye was wondering around, more lost than he'd like to admit, looking for the rec. room and hopefully a cube of Energon. The orange mech was looking up at the directional signs bolted onto the walls, all of which were written in what he figured was Cybertronian -how he knew how to read and understand a language he never encountered before was anyone's guess-, not fully paying attention to his front as he went. It was just as he came to a cross section in the hallway did Hawkeye run headlong into another, somber looking, mech.

A loud dual yelp of surprise reverberated through the halls closely followed by an equally loud 'THUD' and a pained groan. Hawkeye looked down at the mech he had all but ran over. He was a grey mech with a band of navy racing stripes the right side of his chest plate and a red chevron at his brow, slim figured and fairly tall, likely he would stand taller than himself but not broader, a shoulder mounted cannon, and low drooping door wings.

"Ah, sorry about that, I wasn't looking where I was going." Hawkeye explained apologetically as he offered his hand.

"No, no, it's alright, I wasn't really paying attention either." the grey Autobot replied as he took the presented servo and pulled himself up. Then curious blue optics met green. "uh… who are you? I don't remember seeing you on base before." the door winged mech asked in confusion.

Hawk gave a small shrug and a half grin as he answered, "Yeah, I just got in a few hours ago. I'm Hawkeye, a Neutral."

Sensory panels rose in surprise for the first time since Hawkeye walked into the grey sports car mech. "A Neutral, wow, I haven't seen a Neutral for a long time. Megatron had practically made it his top priority to offline every colony of Neutrals and femmes since the war began. How'd you manage to escape? Are there anymore like you? Where'd you come from? When did you arrive on Earth? You must've gotten here recently, most likely before my team arrived, but then I haven't seen you on base before now. That's really odd. Where-"

Hawkeye, having enough of the other mech's insistent chatter, reached over and cut him off by covering his mouth plates. "TTIME OUT! First, slow down." the other mech nodded as Hawkeye cautiously retracted his hand. He continued to speak when he was met with silence, "Now, why don't you introduce yourself properly before we jump to the 'Q and A' session."

"Sorry about that, I tend to babble and not stop once I really start going." he said sheepishly, knowing he'd blush if he'd been capable at his slip of decorum. Prowl would be mortified at his lack of manners. "My designation is Bluestreak, one of the best sharpshooters in the entire Autobot army." he gave a small polite grin.

Hawk smiled in amusement at the mech across from him, thinking how appropriately his name suited him. At the same time Hawkeye noticed Bluestreak had an obvious air of innocence to him, but his dim optics and sadly too thin and barely noticeable grin was unable to match it. Hawkeye had to refrain from giving a concerned frown of his own at the sight. "Nice to meet you. So, Bluestreak, think you could help a mech in need and show me to the rec room." the orange mech asked with a strained smile. He never appreciated being clueless about something or forced to ask for help. "I'd like to get my servos on a warm cube of Energon before I drop into stasis. I really don't feel like having that crazy medic from the Pit stumble over my stasis locked frame in some lonely hall and reformat me into something degrading because I didn't get to refuel."

For the first time since his arrival and planet-fall on Earth, the young Praxian found himself giving the orange mech a true, if small, smile. "You're new to the base, aren't you?"

"That obvious, eh?"

Bluestreak nodded. "I'll show you the way. I can even give you a tour if you'd like?"

"Thanks Blues!" Hawkeye said with a bit of enthusiasm as Bluestreak began leading him to the rec. room. He couldn't wait to refuel and as Bluestreak began chatting his audios off about what he knew of the base and the Autobots in general, he had to wonder if Cybertronians processed their Energon differently than Los Magia Energon.

((O)) ((O))

"So tell me Sam," Optimus began as he gently set the little human down on his desk, "what is so important you needed to speak with me about that you would purposely risk my CMO's wrath?" It had taken the better part of an hour of compromising with Ratchet so the two of them could speak in the relative privacy of Optimus' office. The highly irritated medic had let the young human leave under strict orders that he'd be returned to the medbay within the hour or the base would become a house of flying wrenches. Optimus readily agreed, if only to save his own helm from Ratchet's Wrench of Doom. Bumblebee had came trailing behind his leader and charge, leaving Leo behind to his fate with a cranky Ratchet and an exasperated Mikaela, and was now standing just outside the door to Prime's office like a watchdog. He had been worried about his little human friend and didn't want to be too far away.

Sam sat somewhat heavily down on the wide desktop, crossing his legs and leaning his elbows on his knees, while Prime rounded the desk and seated himself in his large chair behind it. "…It's about me and the All-Spark." Optimus' optics shuttered in attention as he waited for the youngest of the Witwicky family to continue, half in surprise and half expectant.

"Tell me then, what happened in your dorm room, Sam?"

Sam rubbed the back of his neck, one of several of his nervous habits Optimus noted, and said, "I'm not all too sure, but I was dreaming. It was like the time I - like that time back in Egypt with The Fallen." Sam then started to fidget. He didn't particularly like talking about the events surrounding his and Optimus' deaths and resurrection. It made him feel strange and somehow different, almost like he was less human and more of something else he couldn't put a name to. "I met the Primes again."

Optimus lean forward on the surface of his desk at this, hands griping the edge of the office furniture in intense interest. "What did they wish to talk about?" the flaming Peterbuilt urged, knowing that whatever the boy spoke of next would be very important information that could very likely affect the future of not only the Cybertronian race, but Earth as well. "Is something going to happen?"

"No, no, nothing like that." Sam shook his head. "It's not bad or anything, but… They told me the All-Spark is alive!" Sam blurted, throwing out his arms as if trying to further express the magnitude of his statement. He could tell by the way Optimus' vents suddenly hitched, the giant mech was both shocked speechless and pleasantly surprised (by the muted 'thud' on the other side of the door, the two office occupants knew Bumblebee was listening in on their conversation (the scout's audio sensors were second only to Red Alert's and Jazz)). "It did something to preserve itself before it was destroyed. It split!"

Optimus' optics shuttered in question, renewed, if hesitant, hope shining in his optics. "Split? I'm not sure I understand. Please, explain what you mean Sam."

Sam took a calming breath he explained, "The All-spark, I think, somehow knew what was going to happen. It divided itself in half and imprinted part of itself into me." he explained, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "The Primes said half of it was power and the other half was knowledge. They said it judged me as a suitable vessel for its knowledge and passed it on into me. I guess it happened when I shoved the Cube into Megatron's chest in Mission City." Sam looked down at his hands, he could still remember how badly the Cube had burned his hands. If one looked closely enough at his palms, they would be able to see faint patterns of pale, raised skin just like the ones that had been carved all over the All-Spark.. "It's the reason I've been seeing all those ancient glyphs, everything the All-Spark ever knew is now in my head."

Optimus sat back in his chair in as his processor contemplated what he'd just been told. If he was understanding what Sam was saying right, the All-Spark was a semi-sentient being, at the very least, and had been aware enough to know what had been happening around it. If that was the true case, then the Cube may have known its fate from the start and took the necessary steps to preserve its essence and ensure it had inheritors to pass its power and the accumulated knowledge on to. Thinking of the All-Spark as a sentient, living being made Optimus feel even worse than he already had for condemning the Cube. "What of the other half of the All-Spark?"

"It's in someone else, a guy named Harry." Sam shrugged helplessly. "I met him when the Primes pulled me into that limbo place and explained what was going on."

Optimus' mouth plates tugged down in a thoughtful frown. He knew that his Autobots and the members of NEST, as soon as he made the announcement about the continued existence of their life-giving Cube, would scramble to search the planet over for the human who now had within him the power of the All-Spark. But, a single name without a surname was not enough to go by. Optimus knew without consulting the internet that there were hundreds, or even thousands, of Harrys all over the world. "Tell me, Sam, what did this 'Harry' look like? Sound like? His mannerism? How did he dress? We need as much information as possible. I wish to find him before the Decepticons catch wind of his existence."

Sam nodded as he took a moment to think (since the incident with The Fallen Sam had come to realize his memory had gotten a lot better, sharper, to the point of becoming more and more photographic). Sam then told the red and blue Prime what little he knew of the older All-Spark half. "He was about 5' 6", he looked around my age, like a fifteen year-old, but said he was thirty, had these intense green eyes and messy black hair, had a British accent like Bee and Graham, and he wore blue robes, like he was dressed in a wizard costume." Sam rattled off. "One of the Primes also called him Harrison and another said something about him being related to a woman named Delilah Evans."

The flaming Prime nodded. The description was still vague but not as nearly so now. They were looking from a small British male with black hair and green eyes in his thirties who could pass as a teenager that dressed oddly. His formal name is Harrison with an alias of Harry and had blood relations to a Delilah Evans. The female name would be sure way of narrowing down the impending search. "Thank you Sam, that helps greatly."

"Optimus, Harry also said something before I woke up." Sam added. "He said to 'find Hawkeye and Nightgale', I think they know him."

Prime's optics shuttered in surprise. "Are you certain?" Optimus asked, still processing what he was just informed and wondering how the Neutrals he had just seen could have any sort of connection with the other half of the now human All-Spark. Sam gave him an affirming nod.

Optimus then scooped up Sam in one hand as he reached up to the side of his helm and activated his comm. device with the other. **::This is Optimus Prime to Base Communications.::**

A second later a female officer's voice replied, **:: This is Base Communications Hanger, Prime. How can we help you, sir?::**

**::I'm on my way up to the communications hanger now, please assemble all lead NEST operatives and Autobots, and get General Morshrower on a secure line right away. We have immediate concerns to discuss.::** he informed as he walked to his door and out the office.

**::Yes, sir!::** was the brisk reply and three seconds latter the base wide intercom hailed all Autobot personnel and lead NEST members to the communication hanger.

When the door opened and Optimus stepped out they were immediately met with Bumblebee's awed optics. Optimus gave an assuring smile as he gently deposited Sam into the yellow scout's waiting hands before making his way up to the communications hanger for his impromptu meeting.

"Sam," Bumblebee looked down at his best friend with both wonder and worry. "Is what you and Optimus talked about really true? Are you really part of a new All-Spark?"

On one hand Bee was ecstatic that the All-Spark was still alive and that the Cybertronian race may still have hope for a continued existence when the war would finally come to an end. He didn't like the title 'Last of the Sparklings' tacked to his name. But on the other hand, Bumblebee was worried that if the Decepticons ever found out the All-Spark was now a permanent part of Sam's and that other human's lives, the war would practically begin anew and Sam would be in even greater danger than before.

The college student nodded, a bland grin adorning his face. "Yeah, wild ain't it?" For some reason, Sam could honestly say he wasn't all that surprise something like this was happening to him. It was like he had become a magnet for the weird lately. Make no mistake, Sam was more than wanting to freak out and deny the fact he was now half of the All-Spark. Who wouldn't? It was crazy, frightening, and overwhelmingly awesome all together at once. But after seeing how calmly that Harry guy took the news and accepted it -even to Sam the older man seemed just as quietly pissed, though he didn't show it, as he was resigned-, Sam was determined to keep calm and not fall apart into thousands of pieces like he wanted to. He had learned his lesson all too well about trying to run away from his destiny back when he chose to ignore it. Optimus had paid for his decision then with his spark. Sam didn't want to repeat that mistake.

"Yes, it is." Then the Camaro cradled the young human closer to his chassis, over his spark chamber, protectively as he followed after his leader. In that moment, Bumblebee renewed his oath to protect the fragile human All-Spark vessel that had become his most important friend. _'I swear on my spark, Sam, I won't let those 'Cons hurt you. Not again, never again!'_

((O)) ((O))

=(Jazz's Recovery room, Liberty Tech Memorial, Los Magia)=

Blue optics flashed and brightened as Jazz slowly brought himself online from his medical stasis lock. He groaned piteously as he became aware of the sensory nodes in his legs throbbing dully, reminding him of his most recent surgery that was done on them only two joors ago. Jazz did a cursory systems check and found every one of his major systems were all green and some of his lesser, non-important systems offline but still in working order. He then turned his sensors outward and did a quick scan of his surroundings. The silver Solstice found he was back in his private recovery room. Jazz groaned again as his optics offlined, ready to cycle back down into recharge, when his scanners suddenly registered a bio-signature off to his immediate right.

Jazz's optics onlined again as he turned his head to look at his unannounced guest. Sitting at the edge of a nearby chair was a small human, femme youngling. She had an almost unhealthy pallor to her flawless skin and had a long mass of blood-red hair that curled primly down her back tamed only by a black ribbon wrapped around the crown of her head. He couldn't see the color of her eyes as the long fringe of her hair blocked them from view. She wore a dark navy debonair dress of silk with black lace and frill with matching black gloves and polished ankle-heigh leather boots. She would almost pass for innocent little girl as she hummed a tune that sounded like a lullaby if it hadn't been for that dark air of danger about her tiny form.

"Guten tag." The little femme didn't even look up when she greeted the Autobot, finally noting Jazz's full state of wakefulness and cataloging of her person, as she sat there with a similarly dressed porcelain faced doll with golden faux hair that she was gently brushing out with a small but rather expensive looking brush.

Jazz noted the German language she used to greet him and replied in turn, "Guten tag, wer bist du?"

The bush in her hand stopped stroking the false hair of her doll. A smile graced her pink lips as she slowly raised her eyes up at him, showing her inhuman bright red irises with cat-like pupils. "Mein name ist Margareta von Voltaire. It iz nice to meet you, Autobot Jazz." Margareta practically purred, tossing a wayward lock of hair over her shoulder. For a moment a small pointed ear was visible before the red curl fell back into place.

The silver Autobot suddenly had a nagging feeling that the little femme in his room wasn't quite as human as she appeared. The thought in itself seem odd even to Jazz. He couldn't shake the feeling of age he got from just looking at the child but tried ignore it. "So then, little missy," Jazz began as he reached for the controls of his berth and adjusted it so he'd sit up in a reclined position, "You know who I am, but, how'd you get in here? I was under the impression nobody without high clearance was allowed in to see me." His primary medic had informed of that him when he asked if he should be expect anyone else after The Creator and Siren visiting during his time confined to a berth.

"Z'he security iz to protect you. Z'here ah're a number of s'itizens in z'his colony z'hat do not like you being here." she explained in an easy mannered tone. "Your mere prez'anze az an out'zider iz worrying to z'hem. But z'ee Creator and z'ee magistrate ah're curious about you, mein dear Autobot." Margareta giggled in amusement. "Of course, I have z'ee clearance to visit. I ah'm a noble and one of z'ee Magistrate. I simply vant'ed to meet z'ee mech z'hat drew mein lord'z attens'ion."

Jazz raised a surprised optic ridge in question. "The Creator didn't strike me as the kind of guy to start politicians off so… young." he said gently, trying not to insult, but not really convinced. The child just announced herself as both nobility and a member of the citiy's magistrate after all. While it wouldn't do to frag off his savior by offending people close to him, his saboteur protocol coding only allowed him to take her words with a grain of rust.

Margareta smirked in a way that said she was both amused and annoyed at his words, clearly she caught his disbelief. "I assure you, he doz not."

In that moment, just before Jazz could ask what the girl meant, a beep over the door sounded before it opened. Jazz turned to watched a large gunmetal grey mech with pale green optics and helicopter rotors on his back walk in through he threshold. Held in one hand was an official looking data pad while the other hand cradled what looked like a small plastic to-go bag.

The new mech instantly reminded the Autobot of a flying version of Ironhide, what with all the obvious weapons on his person and the burly body frame. Jazz almost tensed instinctively when he saw the way the bigger mech's pale optics slowly raked over his berth ridden frame, as if determining his threat level, before making a beeline for the little human femme in the chair. It was the look in the dark grey flyer's hard optics that unsettled the Cybertronian. They reminded Jazz heavily of a mix of the two Decepticons Shockwave and Soundwave; that cold, detached look of calculation always made his derma-plating crawl. But at the same time, Jazz realized this mech was nothing like them when the mech looked on Margareta. Rather than looking at her with disdain disgust, those same unyielding optics softened into something gentle even as his frame remained ramrod rigid. Jazz was reminded of Prowl in that moment and wondered who this new mech was.

Margareta saw Jazz's curious look at her friend and vice-versa, she decided to introduce them, "Jazzy, z'his iz Vindchill, first seat Judge Magister, and Director of z'ee defense organization, Guardian Force. Vildchill already knows who you are, Jazzy. Z'hat juvenile, bottom feeding fish told z'ee rest of us about you in her poor excue'z of a report." she sniffed haughtily.

Jazz could only guess by the level of the girl's ire that the 'juvenile, bottom feeding fish' Margareta was talking about was that beautiful femme, Siren. Jazz made a mental note not to get between the two if the antagonism was mutual.

Margareta suddenly seemed to zero in on the little bag Windchill was holding. "Vielen dank, mein 'Chilly, for fetching mein lunch for me! I vaz famished!" the redhead gushed in childish enthusiasm as the mech she apparently nicknamed 'Chilly' bent down slightly to pick her up and set her on his shoulder with the bag. Margarete pounced eagerly on the baggy and started rummaging through it, pulling out several bottles of some kind of unknown red liquid. "Mein favorite kinds too."

Jazz gave no indication that he noticed, but when the little German girl smiled at Windchill he saw the points of two rows of sharp fangs lining her mouth. Also, when Margareta opened one of those bottles just delivered to her, Jazz's olfactory sensors alerted him to the sudden presence of human blood coming from it.

That nagging feeling from before suddenly became much more prominent as his new and earlier observations about Margareta began matching up with what he knew from web surfing was supposed to be occult fiction. It became all the more definite as Jazz watched with a morbid sense of fascination as the redhead drank the bottled blood with almost ravenous, if dainty earnest. He then discreetly took a look at the organic femme through his infrared vision and saw how deathly low her core temperature read and suddenly Jazz knew what Margareta was. The paleness of her skin, the odd color of her eyes, the pointed ears, that vague reference of her age, and now the fangs, eagerness for blood, cold body temperature.

"Margareta," Jazz stated, "you're a vampire, aren't you?"

The last of the von Voltaire coven lowed the bottle she drank from and looked blankly for a moment before a slow predatory smirk, flashing red tinged fangs. "I vas beginning to vonder when you'd notice." She capped her bottle as Windchill moved to stand next to Jazz's berth side. "Yez, I ah'm a vampire, but z'hat iz not important." Windchill then presented the datapad he'd been holding to the Solstice.

"Read. Sign. Be ready to leave." The helicopter's rumbled, his voice low and gravelly as if he wasn't used to speaking.

"Z'hey are your release forms." Margareta informed as she crossed her legs, idly toying with her doll . "Lifeline v'ill come to give you one las' check and reactivate v'hatever systems of yours iz still off, z'hen you v'ill be released to us in a few hours."

"Okay, I guess." Jazz nodded, still reeling but excited at what he thought was supposed to be fiction suddenly become real, as he began skimming through the forms.

Margareta went back to her lunch while Windchill took the chair the little vampire originally occupied while fishing out another datapad from his personal subspace pocket, this one of reports he usually took to carrying around and began reading through them as they began to wait.

((O)) ((O))

=(Autobot/NEST Base, Diego Garcia)=

Communications was crowded, almost every Autobot present on base and leading NEST members all stood taking up whatever available space within the sightly cramped confines of the hanger, whispering to each other and wondering what this emergency meeting had been called for. Only the Neutrals and their human companions, as well as the majority of NEST were absent. On an overhead large screen computer monitor at the far end of the hanger were the face of General Morshrower. The different conversation held in low tones died down to silence when Optimus Prime stepped into the hanger with Bumblebee holding Sam behind him.

"Good afternoon everyone." Prime greeted with such an air of seriousness that many of the room's occupants straightened up.

"Prime," Marshrower acknowledged. "I'd like to skip pleasantries if you don't mind. What's the meaning of this meeting?" the man asked pointed pointedly.

"Of course," Optimus nodded before looking around the room, making optic/eye contact with everyone to insure he had everyone's attention. "As of 07:34 hrs, yesterday morning, I was informed young Sam here had begun seeing ancient Cybertronian texts as he had before the appearance of The Fallen last year." Almost all attention turned onto Sam at Optimus' words. "Ratchet confirmed this during a scanning of Sam and found an acceleration in retroactivity in Sam's brainwaves. Just a few moments ago, Sam informed me that he had come into contact with the Dynasty of Primes once more.

"Sam was then informed that the All-Spark, our life-giving cube, is still alive." By then excited and disbelieving chatter filled the hanger as question were thrown back and forth between themselves. Optimus allowed them a moment before he brought them all back to silence. "Yes, yes, the All-Spark is still thriving, but it is no longer the way we remember it."

"And what does that mean, Prime?" Marshrower asked as he leaned forward on his desk and closer to his monitor-mounted camera.

"The All-Spark has taken a new form… and it has divided itself in half."

Stunned silence met Optimus' audios for several long moments. It was Wheeljack that broke the silence. "What do you mean it divided?"

Optimus' cycled a sigh through his vents and retold all that Sam had told him; the fact that the young ally had been harboring half the All-Spark since its original Cube form was destroyed while another human had the other half and what little knowledge they had to work with in order to find the man. By the time Prime finished the room was silent in its contemplation of the situation.

General Morshower sat back in his chair before speaking. "Optimus, will you and your team be able to find this human All-Spark half without drawing too much unnecessary attention?" he asked cautiously. "I've been hearing one too many whispers from my superiors and foreign delegates asking not just about your tech and weapons, but about the research Sector 7 did while they had possession of the Cube."

The Autobot leader frowned at that. While he knew most of Earth's governments were interested in Cybertronian technology, their just as many militaries more attracted to the Autobots weaponry and occasionally pushed to have them share their weapon system specs, this was the first time he heard any of them having an interest in the reposts Sector 7 had complied about the Cube. It was a little worrying. Most humans, as he had quickly realized, just weren't ready to have that kind of knowledge. It would be like handing a curious, newly upgraded youngling a pulse rifle without the safety on and expecting them not to play with it.

Optimus glanced over to his SIC, knowing the security mech was already calculating probabilities based on the hundreds of scenarios running through his processor. "Prowl, what do you think?"

"I believe we can conduct our search while evading attention from the human governments, General." Prowl answered tonelessly as he stepped forward, making several mechs around him cringe at the flatter, colder sound of his voice. "The Decepticons may, however prove to be a problem. I've gone over previous reports of the hunts and battles here on Earth and concluded that now only does the enemy know our base's location, while we have a vague idea where there ship is, but may have been watching our movements." Frosty optics looked at Prime.

"I think sending out a couple of small groups to look for this Harry person." Lennox suggested. "We can start by finding this guy's hometown and work our way out from there."

Epps then added, "We'd have to send groups of two or three and rotate the search parties every other week or so we won't end up stretching out our personnel too thin away from the base."

Optimus nodded. "We will have to carry out this search-and-retrieval mission carefully and discreetly. We do not want Megatron and his Decepticons to catch wind of this. I do not think I should have to remind anyone of what would happen if the Decepticons managed to get hold of any of this information." From there Optimus, Lennox, and General Morshower began assigning the NEST soldiers and the Autobots their duties.

None of the souls and sparks on the Diego Garcia base ever once noticed a pair of glowing red optics of a small enemy spy, avian in nature, hidden high up in the shadows of the ventilation shafts watching their meeting.

((O)) ((O))

=(Earth's Orbit, Outer Space)=

Drifting languidly high within Earth's orbit, just outside of the human's surveillance range, was the large satellite-like silver and blue Transformer, the Decepticon's head of Communication, Soundwave.

At the moment, the 'Con officer had his processor jacked into the internet, spying on many of the human governments, military bases, and individuals or large companies that controlled the planet's major resource distributions with connections to the Autobots. He had been given orders from his great and terrible lord and master to study and catalog whatever weakness he could find, plant viruses to cripple their enemy faction's main suppliers, and locate any source of recourses to restock their own supplies. That embarrassing defeat the Autobots and their fleashling pets handed the Decepticons back in Egypt not only caused a shortage of Decepticons troops but a sever depletion of the 'Cons' already dwindling supplies as well. Since then Megatron had been ordering raids on human facilities such as power plants, research facilities that dealt with chemicals, mines, oil rigs, and a few other manufacturing companies for certain ores and alloys.

Actually going out on a raid and coming back to their base aboard the Nemeses successfully was harder said than done. With the increasing number of incoming Autobots making landfall and anti-Decepticon surveillance groups all over the planet watching for them and hunting them, it made it difficult to get what they needed from the little mud ball planet below.

The entire process was taking far more time than he would've liked to hack into some of the mainframes that had greater priority. He had found several important computers across the blue planet's major countries that had been outfitted with highly encrypted protection firewalls that positively reeked of Autobot modification and upgrading. Most of them at least. Several, however, he found were more interesting but was wary about hacking into. These particular systems were heavily protected by not just thick layers of powerful firewalls that took a lot of processing power to breach, but also by a variable mote of several vicious viruses. The many viruses were so complex and different from one another that infection probability was high; they were dangerous even to him in the way they attacked and devoured indiscriminately at anything that tried to gain unauthorized entry. They're adaptability distinctively reminded Soundwave of his late cassetticon, Frenzy. It made Soundwave suspicious and curious as to what kind of data lay under those firewalls that protected.

These protection codes were just too highly advanced to believe that a bunch of primitive squishies from some backwater planet to have created something so intricate without help. While the firewalls he found were dissimilar to anything from Cybertron he knew of, the style was so tellingly obvious that it was written by the humans, they were entirely too complex to not to have been molded from Cybertronian technology.

The Decepticon satellite's comm. suddenly came to life with his symbiote's, Laserbeak, screechy hailing. Multiple red optics onlined as the communications expert answered back, **::Soundwave acknowledges. What are you findings Laserbeak?:: **In an instant a recorded file was sent to him and played back for him. **::Mission: Accomplished. Return to me, Laserbeak.:: **he ordered monotonously before calling out to his master.

((O)) ((O))

=(Throne Room of Nemeses, Mars Orbit, Outer Space)=

"IMBECILES!"

Starscream slammed into the ground painfully when he was viciously backhanded, before a foot connected with his mid-quarters and he groaned in pain as he was kicked mecilessly. Not far from him his trine mates lay in battered, 'bloody' heaps on the verge of stasis lock. The other Decepticons present in the room didn't dare move to help lest their master's explosive and brutal wrath be turned on them. In fact, several of them had a gleam of dark amusement shining in their optics as they grinned at the arrogant trine's beating. In their oppinions it served them right.

"Worthless. Incompetent failures!" Megatron raged before bending down and wrapped his long, razor sharp claws around the Air Commander's helm. The Decepticon leader squeezed Starscream's head, digging his claws in painfully, as he hefted his Air Commander easily and forced Starscream to look him in the optics. "Useless heap of slag! I give you one simple mission, bring me the neutrals, and yet, not only did you fail at that, you ran, letting those Autobots offline Barricade. Tell me, why should spare your pathetic, cowardly skid plate?"

"P-please, Lord Me-Megatron, the Autobots had already offlined B-Barricade by t-the time I saw! We were outnumbered!"

Megatron snarled and tossed Starscream away like a piece of yesterday's trash. "Get out of my sight! Hook!"

"Y-yes Master Megatron?" the Constructicon medic stepped forward with slight hesitance.

"Repair him and the rest of his trine." the hulking grey mech ground out the order as he went to sit on his throne. "The rest of you will leave my sight or suffer slow dismantlement as I make you watch whatever if left of your parts be melted down to slage!" he roared. The response was immediate as all the room's occupants save himself vacated, leaving the throne room in near complete silence for Megatron to contemplate his next move against Prime.

**::Soundwave to Lord Megatron.::**

Megatron growled low and threatening as he answered dangerously, **::Your reasons for interrupting me better be sufficient.::**

Soundwave spoke again, his emotionless voice not giving even half a decimal of a nuance to any fear he _might _have felt, **::Infiltration Mission of Autobot Bass: Complete. Now sending recorded data.::**

With a short data burst not even a second later, Megatron was reviewing a meeting between the Autobots and their fleashling counterparts. The new information left Megatron in a state of disbelief that slowly turned into satisfaction. The very idea that the All-Spark was still continued to live and its vast power thriving, even if in the form of two wretched vessels of organic flesh, would have sent his CPU crashing if he were a lesser mech. **::Soundwave, could this be an Autobot trap Prime set up?:: **It wouldn't be the first time Optimus Prime lain a trap for him and his minions to fall into.

**::Autobot Trap: Pissible. Samuel James Witwicky's connection to Cybertronian artifacts of power: Proven.::**

**::Good work, Soundwave. You and Laserbeak serve me well, unlike some useless mechs.::** he all but purred, ideas and plans already formulating within his processor.

**::I do as you command, Lord Megatron.::**

**::Good, now continue tracking those foolish Autobots. If this is true, I want to know all their movements.:: **he ordered. **::This is our chance to finally obtain that which is rightfully ours. I want those two humans, Samuel James Witwicky and this 'Harry', in my grasp before those Autobots get the chance. I will personally extract the power and ancient knowledge from their dead corpses if I have to. Find me my All-Spark!::**


End file.
